


Vampire Hearing

by ThatAloneOne



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: (Almost), Abuse / Emotional Abuse, Blanket Permission, F/F, Hard of Hearing Laura, Journalism, Medical Procedures, Prescribed Pain Medication, Sumerian Mythology - Freeform, Vampire Laura, and Laf blows some stuff up, check inside for more warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-16 05:52:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAloneOne/pseuds/ThatAloneOne
Summary: Laura is a little deaf. Okay, more than a little. When Silas, her university, offers an experimental surgery to fix it that comes with a perfect chance to look into a spate of missing girls, Laura decides to go for it. In her search for the missing girls, Laura finds Carmilla, a mysterious ex-patient who knows way more than she’ll admit about the surgery that has Laura healing supernaturally fast and hearing impossible things. The Dean of the university has plans to get something — or someone — back from the underworld and Laura is the only one who’s trying to stop her.





	1. Vampire Hearing

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Carmilla Big Bang 2017! The art that goes with story is [here](http://arthkael.tumblr.com/post/165366758228/my-carmilla-big-bang-submission-for), by the AMAZING arthkael on tumblr! And [two](http://arthkael.tumblr.com/post/165905416863/a-bonus-sketch-for-vampire-hearing-by) [more](http://arthkael.tumblr.com/post/170454323188/bonus-fanart-for-vampire-hearing-by)! Bonuses! It's so cool! She’s amazing!
> 
> Be aware of the content of this story. It discusses surgery, evil magic used via surgery, medical painkillers and the resulting high, and instances and mentions of emotional abuse from the Dean to Carmilla. Likely some of this could be classified as body horror. There is a death in this story, but it's temporary. If you want to ask me any questions on it, you can find me at writerproblem193.tumblr.com
> 
> The NSFW content is entirely in the epilogue. More information on that will be in the notes of that chapter.
> 
> If you're someone who's received/is going to receive a cochlear implant, this story is for you.

Laura hated the phrase hearing impaired. What a statement to make about someone. It was worse than hearing loss, a permanent state of misplaced dignity. Right, Laura could just turn on her tracking app and _voila_ , there her hearing was!

Okay. That was maybe unfair. But the phrase _hearing impaired_ still dug in under her skin whenever she heard it. There was never any malicious intent, but that didn’t matter. With her terrible, awful, horrible, no-good ears, Laura could hear the message very clearly — impaired. Incapacitated. Missing something that everyone should have.

Laura was a lot of things. Curious. Impertinent. Addicted to sugar. A lesbian. Broken wasn’t one of them. 

Laura was just… deaf. Almost all the way there, at least in her right ear. It tended to come up pretty quickly in conversations. People got amazingly offended when Laura had her head tilted, or when she looked off to the side. She was used to being accused of not paying attention, but seriously, it was opposite. Having only one working ear had given her body language an unfriendly overhaul, or so people seemed to think ever since her right ear took a trip for the worse in the fourth grade.

Loud noises though? Like a car backfiring? That was easy to hear. Her other ear worked just fine. For now, at least. The off-kilter part of her inner ear that had spontaneously set her right ear’s hearing spiralling when she was nine could always kick her in the butt if it felt like it. 

Laura watched and listened to the aging Honda trundling down the road across the hospital, the bumper rattling up and down like it was bopping to heavy rock. It reminded her of her car, parked in the patient’s section of the parking lot, except that her car loved rusting too much to look that good.

When the noise of the car faded away into the noise of the campus, Laura stared up at the hospital sign again. It wasn’t exactly reassuring — faded and with what looked like claw marks through it. How did something with claws that big even get up fifteen feet in the air? It _couldn’t_ have climbed.

Claw marks aside, this was the hard part. Walking in. Laura had already made all the arrangements, signed the forms, got her father’s approval, got Laf’s approval, and bought a hidden camera that looked like a coffee thermos. She’d thought about bringing her first diary, the one with the lock, but had decided against it last moment. She wanted to look innocent and above suspicion, and her dad had been big on security. The lock was an actual padlock, and the diary had chains around it that made it all but impossible to pry open without a key.

Laura had tracked her first case in that book, the candygram fund embezzlement. It would have been amazing to have tracked her first _real_ case in it too, but things didn’t always work out. Laura had written all her information down in it, though, and left the key with Laf. Just in case things didn’t work out.  

Here was what she knew:

Silas University had opened a case study a few months ago, in cooperation with their medical department. Until then, Laura didn’t even know they _had_ a medical department. They’d uncovered a revolutionary new way to fix up sensorineural hearing damage. Did anyone want in?

The choice was this: stay the same or change. Accept the fact her right ear would never be able to hear anything but screeching chairs and nails on the chalkboard. Or— change everything, change every aspect of her life going forwards, and possibly gain that hearing back. 

Laura didn’t feel damaged, or somehow lesser for the black hole of her right ear but it wasn’t fun, either. It made life harder. Also, there were rumours. _Missing people_ rumours. The kind of stuff that made Laura’s inner journalist rub her hands together and start plotting. That was what had really gotten Laura into this. Sure, her hearing was important, but people going missing was _perfect_ for her journalism project.

And… Laura cared. Even if the main office didn’t seem to care that the homecoming goat sacrifice existed and that the Alchemy Club seemed to be run by an actual sentient mushroom, this was a place where people lived. Silas was weird. It just usually wasn’t weird in ways that directly hurt people.

That was why Laura was here. To fix a couple malfunctioning nerve hairs, and to find the missing girls. Easy, right?

Easy.

Laura stared at the door. It was unremarkable, as far as doors went. Handle. Window, with wires inside. The word _Hospital_ was smacked in the middle of the door in big blue capitals, in case someone managed to forget where they were in the time it took to look down from the giant red-lit HOSPITAL sign to the doorway. It didn’t glow, or do a Buffy Hellgate, or anything interesting. Because it was a door.

Would Laf have encouraged her?

Yes. Laf had been very specific about what Laura was supposed to do. “Make the weird submit,” they had said. The twinkle in their eyes had said a lot about how literally Laura was supposed to take it. 

She could do that. This was her choice. This was her chance to save someone.

Laura mounted the steps and pushed the door open.

The inside of the hospital was a lot more comforting than the outside. Instead of the dilapidation Laura had expected, it was clean and put together. Everything sparkled, even the fake wood of the registration desk. 

“Hi,” Laura said. She readjusted the strap of her carry on. Maybe she should have packed more clothes. Should she have packed more than two outfits? They hadn’t told her how long she was going to have to stay here, other than _as long as it takes_. “I’m here for the hearing clinic?”

 

* * *

 

Prepping for surgery was an entirely different beast than Laura had expected. She had to fill out the same forms, again and again, and go over her information with no less than three separate nurses. It kind of made Laura think somebody had once made a terrible mistake and ‘fixed’ the wrong person’s hearing. At least they didn’t want to do it again? 

Then she changed into hospital clothing. Well, she changed into the smock, but none of the pants had fit. Her hips were too wide for the small ones, and the bigger ones pooled down around her feet like the world’s worst tripping hazard. A harried nurse told her to keep her sweatpants on — the pure cotton made them fine.

And then it was time.

Laura hadn't been scared. Not through the whole process — the thinking, the learning, the accepting, the doing. She’d gotten herself into the building just fine — well, after her mini panic at the door. But that was a mini panic. Laura had mini panics all the time!

“You can make yourself comfortable,” the nurse said, and gestured at the table. And it was a table. It didn’t even sort of look like a bed. It was really narrow, too. What if they tipped Laura off the table during the surgery? Would she wake up if she hit the floor?

Laura nodded, and even though she wanted to run screaming out the door, went for the table. It was cold. Of course it was cold. There was no point in warming something up if the person lying on it was unconscious.

Then Laura saw the pillow. Her heart stopped beating for a long, long moment.

It wasn’t a pillow. It was rubber, weirdly old and orange like an aged artist’s eraser, and it was a circle with a hollow centre. Perfect for resting a head as it was drilled.

Running suddenly sounded like a fantastic idea. 

Instead, Laura took another step, and hopped up on the table. Other nurses bustled around, through thankfully Laura couldn’t see any drills or scalpels or any of the other things that were going to be stabbed into her head. Her heart pounded in her chest, in her ears.

Laura scraped a nail across the shell of her right ear. She could hear it. After today, she wouldn’t be able to.

The world scattered at _that_ pleasant thought, and when it reformed, Laura was lying down, the hard rubber beneath her head, her heart in her throat, and monitoring devices all over her body. The first nurse she’d seen was bent over her hand, flicking it until he was satisfied he’d found a vein.

This was happening.

A second nurse hovered. Her scrubs had tiny lightsabers on them, which was amazing. Laura had had no idea nurses were allowed to wear nerdy clothes. Maybe she could be a nurse, just for that? The nurse smiled, a practiced sort of look that Laura wanted to steal to pry secrets out of unsuspecting interviewees. “Just gonna give you some oxygen, okay?"

“Okay,” Laura said, and let the mask be lowered over her face. “It smells like rubber gloves,” Laura told the nurse, unimpressed. They didn’t have very good quality oxygen. Where was the tang? The bite? The-

 

* * *

 

**Laura**

I am j sakes

Unconvinced by

!!!!!90"

**Laf**

Are you okay?

**Laura**

T he's jurée I thinks neadbhusds. Oo

What

I wanna fall bakbavaksspwnwhatnjmnjanjr

**Laf**

What

**Laura**

I'm tno clmicedmnawaken

Olnawake

M awakepnprn

Awake

Am I

Theee almost four holtnsjit

L'hôpital shirt

**Laf**

Enjoying the drugs, huh Hollis?

**Laura**

Whaup

Spuhlt more convinced I awake

I don't feel like high

I genuinely do n t rebelleront ssded out

Passing

O can't use mf pointer finger

**Laf**

Why not?

**Laura**

There's a bandad where the IV apparently

**Laf**

Oh okay

Sucks that you don't remember passing out, I know you were looking forward to that part.

**Laura:**

[selfie.jpeg]

Okay that looks reamjsfjc magve I'm Swanson wow

Papale

Awake

????

Isordu am I typing a tail worlds

I feel blood pressure cff

Must e awake

**Laf**

I’d think so yeah

**Laura**

Haven't problem docusieknfn

Focusing

And apparently typing

**Laf**

Definitely have a problem typing Hollis

**Laura**

m sleep now theyadgaveme blankets

Lots blanks

**Laf**

Enjoy it while you can

* * *

 

It was embarrassing to wake up and reread her texts to Laf. At the time, Laura had been completely convinced she was typing things correctly. Being awake had been unconvincing, because the clock had jumped forwards four hours without her. She’d expressed that amazing insight to Laf, eloquently.

In retrospect? Uh, no. If Laura didn’t know what she had meant to be saying, she would have had no idea what she meant. Even then… those were some amazing typos. Laura knew she’d meant to communicate the fact she couldn’t tell if she was awake or asleep, but it sounded more like an alien trying to figure out a corporeal body for the first time.

Ooh. Had there been an episode of Doctor Who about that? There had _got_ to be an episode of Doctor Who about that.

Honestly, the experience wasn’t anything like what had been described on TV. She hadn’t felt herself slipping away, there had been no dramatic darkness roaring in from behind her eyelids. She had just…. suddenly been texting.

“They lied!” Laura squeaked, and sat up. Everything screamed, and she lurched back down. “Ow, ow, ow.” She wanted to poke at her fuzzy, fuzzy head, but decided that was probably a terrible idea. First of all, logic. Second of all, it hurt. Laura had learned through experience that it was best not to touch things that hurt. “They lied!” Laura said again, indignant. She glared at the wall — she was alone in her room, and it was a much more rectangular room than the huge, tiled square she’d expected. Duller, too. Instead of shining white and chrome, it was beige, taupe, and… another colour that meant beige but fancier. Oatmeal? Yes. Oatmeal. Her room was oatmeal coloured. “They said it was oxygen!” 

Laura hadn’t thought they’d bother lying to her. She was an adult! Totally old and knowledgeable and un-trickable by dumb tricks like the anesthesiologist telling her the sleep gas was just oxygen. It smelled like rubber gloves. Oxygen didn’t smell like rubber gloves. That was _so rude_ of them.  

She wriggled around beneath the pile of blankets — where had those even come from? Hospitals didn’t seem like the kind of place that would want to drown someone in blankets. Laura loved to be engulfed in blankets, but how would the hospital have-

Oh. She’d probably asked for it. Knowing her, she’d probably rambled on at length. It had been nice to wake up to that sort of reassuring weight, Laura admitted. Felt like home. Felt like she’d finally managed to find the red blanket from the basement. Had her father stolen it?

Laura blinked, and a nurse hovered. 

“Do I need to be careful about moving my hand?” Laura asked. The nurse frowned at her. “With the needle,” Laura clarified. It was maybe a little late to ask, seeing as that she’d apparently texted Laf pages and pages of things she either barely remembered or straight up didn’t. Ha. Straight. “Do I need a cast?”

The nurse sighed. Laura felt kind of guilty for not knowing her name. Was this the same nurse she’d had before? Had she been treated by a nurse before? Oh no. Had she asked the nurse’s name already while she was out? If she didn’t know it now, would the nurse be offended? Why was nobody wearing name tags? “They take the needle out right away. There’s just a tube in there now.”

Laura lifted her left hand to stare at it. Smart of them, putting it in the non-dominant hand. She still texted with both hands, though. Boy, was she glad there wasn’t a slicey dicey needle still in her hand. “Really?” She squinted. How did people get their IV out so easily in movies? There was no less than three types of tape fastening it down. “So there’s a hole in my skin?”

She’d said it with fascination instead of horror, but the nurse still winced. Faintly, Laura considered how other people might react to being told there was a hole in their hand with a plastic tube in it. “Yes.”

Laura let her hand flop back down on the gigantic pile of blankets across her legs. They were scratchy, like the cheap towels you’d take with you to the beach because people would steal the nice ones. “Cool beans.”

The nurse just blinked. She had very nice eyelashes. “Would you like any help getting to the bathroom?”

Laura looked to the bathroom. The door was maybe five feet away from the foot of her bed. Easy. “I think I’m good.” She sat up, and everything rang and swam and generally made a pain of itself. “Whoa.”

The nurse said something, but with one ear now completely dead, Laura had no idea what it was. Laura leant on her arm as she slid her legs off the bed. She didn’t have much of a drop to the floor, which was thoughtful. Or accidental. Could hospitals change the height of the beds as well as the angles?

Laura toddled to the bathroom, tugging the IV stand behind her, and the nurse left her to do her business. It was odd, being tethered to a rickety metal thing with numbers on it. Laura wished she knew what they meant, but…

Even her reflection looked dubious about her chances of understanding it. Laf probably would, but Laf was back in their dorm slash creepy vintage Victorian trellis of a house. Some days, Laura was disappointed that she’d missed out on the typical first year university experience. Perry had a regular dorm building — one with double beds and minifridges and everything. Laura had been confronted with shutters made with a wood from a tree now extinct and floorboards that were silent when she walked on them but groaned when she slept.

Laura wanted to groan like her old floors. Her head hurt. Which made sense but it was _mean_. She’d barely drilled at it at all! Well. She hadn’t drilled at it. A surgeon had. But she’d paid for it so technically-

“Are you alright a deer?” The nurse sounded concerned, but not overly so. In all likelihood, she was used to babying people with IVs and stitches and all that amazing surgical… stuff… that Laura had. And in retrospect, it had probably been ‘in there’. Laura couldn’t wait for her ears to pick it up a notch. Freeloaders.

Laura stared at herself in the mirror, her hair behaving almost unnaturally well. Was blood good for hair? Did she have blood on her hair? “Yes! Coming out.”

She toddled out, towing her IV behind her. Laura kind of wanted to keel over onto it, see if it would hold her up, but science and logic and her brain were telling her that it wouldn’t go well. Stupid, skinny IV. Why didn’t they make IVs that moved? Like, IV riding lawnmowers. But without the lawnmowers. Laura didn’t know about everyone else in the hospital, but she liked her toes.

The nurse helped her back into the bed, settling the big pile of blankets back over her, and showing Laura the reclining controls again. She’d managed to forget where they were. The nurse stood back, watching Laura nestle into the covers with warm eyes. “Are you going to want any food? Are you nauseous?”

Laura’s eyes went wide. She’d completely forgotten about food. Sure, she was hungry, but… Could she eat?

Ear, Laura reminded herself. The surgery had been on her ear, not her entire face. She would be fine.

 

* * *

 

Eating hurt, because her jaw was connected to her face which was connected to her ear. She should have known. On the bright side, ice cream!

 

 

* * *

 

Laura slept soundly, her now IV-free hand curled under her chin.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She had pancakes for breakfast. Laura had learned her lesson. They were delicious, but Laura had now realized she was at least a little delirious. They were probably terrible. Thankfully, she didn’t care.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  
Laura timed her escape from her room precisely — well, semi-precisely. Well, she’d preplanned this. She was glad she had. Laura had expected to walk off the effects of the surgery within a day, and that was far from the truth. It was day two of the infiltration, and it wasn’t exactly going well.

Laura’s head was a bell that had been rung. Her neck ached from holding her head still for so long. The world felt gauzy and slightly unreal, for all the detail in the cold, gritty tile against her bare feet.

She hadn’t noticed that they were bare until now. They must have taken her socks off while she was out. Why would somebody bother taking her socks off? Laura hoped the mystery sock thief hadn’t actually stolen her socks. They were her favourite Doctor Who socks, the only ones without holes left in them.

Laura’s mind wandered a few more loops before she remembered herself. She tightened her hand around the door handle again, renewing her focus. Slowly, carefully, she opened the door a crack.

Nobody in the hall. Good. Veronica Mars step one: don’t get caught.

Step two? Have an excuse. Laura figured being completely stoned on painkillers was an excellent excuse for what she was about to be doing. Being high hadn’t been nearly as interesting as TV sold it. Laura had expected giddiness, intrigue, seeing little floating cupcakes in the air. Mostly it felt like university, a mind-numbing combination of staying up too late and eating too much sugar.

Gathering herself — _again_ , jeez — Laura opened the door the rest of the way and slipped out into the corridor. The fluorescents didn’t flicker, which was disappointing. This whole hospital experience was disappointing. Pudding came in store bought cups, the IV didn’t have needles, and the fluorescents didn’t even flicker. What kind of budget, sensible hospital was this?

A hospital with very, very good sedatives. She was on a mission. Somehow, she kept forgetting that.

Laura inched along the hall, her hands spread wide for balance. Vertigo was still definitely, definitely happening. What were you supposed to do about vertigo? Pills? Head exercises? Just try to stay vertical? Ooh, that rhymed.

While Laura tried to puzzle that out, she spotted paydirt. A closet! She just had an eye for that kind of thing. Came with long experience. Though she hadn’t actually spent time in literal closets, it was the metaphorical equivalent. Also, it didn’t have a window like the rooms, and the knob was different. Also, it said closet on it.

Laura was so distracted by her amazing deductive skills that she nearly toppled all the way to the floor when she tripped over someone. Thankfully, they caught and steadied her before she did something silly like smash her brains out on the floor. Usually, Laura had faith in the strength of her thick skull, but since it had been drilled at yesterday, she didn’t really want to risk it.

“You’re not a cupcake,” Laura said, stupidly, and winced with such suddenness it felt like she’d stabbed her head. “Ow. _Ow._ Um. I promise that made sense in my head.”

The other girl just watched her, baffled. She, unlike Laura, had been smart enough to bring clothes from home. Also unlike Laura, her style ran into an area somewhere between biker and early two thousands high school girl. “Cupcake?”

The fluorescents flickered, and Laura grinned wide, sending another stab of pain through her head. “Ha! They do flicker!” Then Laura froze, because she could hear the reason they’d flickered. Someone was coming, rattling the huge janitorial cart around the corner with enough vigour to short the lights. “Oh, no.”

Before she could get caught out of her room and tied to a bed or an IV post or whatever they did to misbehaving patients in this hospital of mediocrity, Laura grabbed the other girl and flung them into the nearest room. Which was a closet. Because of course it was. At least she was investigating!

“Excuse me,” the other girl said, and Laura realized she’d been leaning into her, half listing because vertigo and half trying to get her good ear to the door. “Listen, cupcake, this is very uncomfortable. What are you doing?”

“Shh!” Laura said, and poked her stomach. It had abs. Of course it had abs. Life was incredibly unfair. “I’m listening!”

The girl was incredulous. “To the _janitor_?"

Laura thought about nodding, and decided against it. She leant back, instead, away from the rudely hot girl and into shelving. It took a few seconds to get comfortable with bottles of bleach against the back of her head, but Laura managed. “Yes!” Laura thought about it. “No! But I can’t be _seen_.”

“By a janitor.”

“Yes!” Laura said, confident this time. She smiled, tentatively, small enough that it wouldn’t tug at her stitches. That also wasn’t something she’d expected having to think about. Emoting was hard after your head had been poked at with scalpels. Who knew? “You got it."

“Okay,” the girl said. “You know what? This is ridiculous.”

“No!” Laura said, and grabbed blindly for the handle. She tugged at the other girl’s hand, doing her level best to pry it away. It didn’t even sort of work. " _No,_ ” Laura whined. “Don’t… Don’t be a… raging bad person!” Laura paused again, trying to jam her scattered thoughts into something that made sense. "I can’t yell at you properly if I don’t know your name.”

“That seems like more of a reason to not tell you,” the girl said, but she didn’t move. They were back to being pressed right up against each other again, which was nice. The girl, for all her flaws in being a mean person who wanted to throw Laura out of the closet, was warm. The girl sighed. “Carmilla."

“Carmilla,” Laura said reasonably. “Don’t open the door.”

“That bunched up face you make when you’re angry is hilarious, cutie,” Carmilla said. Somewhere, Laura was offended, but she was also more pleased to be call cute than she wanted to admit. Also, Carmilla hadn’t opened the door, so she had to be doing something right. “Alright, alright. Whatever. We’ll stay in the closet.”

Laura nodded sagely, and let go of Carmilla’s hand. She didn’t know why she kept nodding with a fresh hole in her head. It was a terrible decision. “Good choice.” She paused. “Unless you’re gay. Then it’s probably not a good idea. The metaphorical closet staying. ‘Cause it sucks.”

Carmilla just stared for a moment. Then her eyes lit on the bandage over Laura’s ear. Laura was still confused about the bandage. The nurse had assured her it was to protect the incision, but the bandage wasn’t over the incision. It was over her ear. Why were they protecting her ear? Had they left something in her ear canal and were waiting for it to fall out?

Laura reached up to tug at the bandage again, curious, and Carmilla grabbed her hand. “Okay there, cupcake. Maybe don’t poke a fresh wound."

Laura squinted. “How do you know it’s fresh?”

Carmilla’s fingers twitched over hers, an involuntary motion. Laura almost wanted to say her nostrils flared, but it was dark enough in the closet that she couldn’t be sure. “Because there’s a bandage over it.”

“Oh yeah,” Laura said, and went to tug at the bandage again. Carmilla grasped her hand tighter. “I wasn’t going to poke the cut! Just the bandage. It’s not actually over the cut. Why wouldn’t they put the bandage over the cut?”

Carmilla sighed. “Because then they would have had to tape it to your hair, and it would incredibly painful to remove.”

Laura blinked. “Huh. That… makes sense.” Instead of worrying at the bandage, she poked Carmilla’s leather jacket. It _looked_ like a regular leather jacket. Nurses were supposed to wear scrubs. Then again, movies had been wrong about consistently flickering lights and pudding in bowls, so who knew? “Are you a nurse? Because that seems like nurselike knowledge.” She frowned, speaking again before Carmilla could respond. “Why does knowledge have a ‘k’, but not nurse?”

“English inherited the silent k from German,” Carmilla said. She removed Laura’s poking finger, and Laura realized she’d been poking the other girl’s chest. Oops. “I don’t know why knowledge has it specifically, though.” 

“Huh,” Laura said again. Her head throbbed. That was extremely rude of it. She’d barely done anything to it, honestly. There had been zero bear spray involved. “Are you German?” Her eyes widened. “Are you a _German nurse?_ "

Carmilla looked baffled, but Laura saw her eyes flick between Laura’s gown — she was wearing _two_ , thank you, one on backwards underneath so she wouldn’t be flashing the whole world her yoga-toned back — and the bandage on her ear. The confusion smoothed out entirely. “I think you’re high.”

Laura scowled. There was no need for judgey eyes. Not unless Carmilla wanted to be all judgey-eye’d right back. Who wore a leather jacket in a hospital? At least Laura had an excuse for the sweatpants. “Does it matter if I am?”

Finally, Carmilla relinquished Laura’s hands. She leant back, though there wasn’t much room to do that with a broom at her back. “You should go back to your room.”

“That sounds like something a German nurse would say.” Laura tried desperately to think of something scathing. She’d googled German, once or twice. Mostly in the context of one of those amazingly long words that meant something ridiculously specific. There was probably a German word for why people who were high should stop talking before they said something they regretted. It probably meant common sense. But Laura liked to ramble anyway, regardless of how many drugs were in her system. “Der whowatzit or whatever. I don’t know German. Is that German?”

“No,” Carmilla told her. She seemed to be fighting back a laugh, which was rude of her. Laura was making perfect sense. Laura had half a journalistic degree. She knew facts from… not facts. 

“Ha!” Laura said, and planted her hands on her hips. Her elbow slammed against the door. It opened, spilling in light and what appeared to be a janitor-free hallway. A second late, she said: “That sounds like something someone who knows German would say.”

“Or someone with common sense and knowledge of what actual languages sound like,” Carmilla said, amused. “But sure, cupcake. Do you need any help getting back to your room?”

“No,” Laura said indignantly, and stumbled into the doorway. It had moved into her path. “Ow.”

“Uh huh.” Carmilla wrapped a careful arm around Laura’s waist, and Laura leant into her. Maybe she did need help. Possibly. Or maybe this was just Laura’s excellent way of picking up girls. Was it picking up girls if technically the other girl was holding her upright? “Okay, cutie, what’s your room number?”

“307,” Laura said, and took a step. Carmilla followed, bearing an impressive amount of Laura’s weight. She was careful to not have Laura’s head bump her shoulder, which was thoughtful. Laura couldn’t be a good conversationalist if she was busy screaming in pain. “Um. Thank you.” 

They limped their way back to 307, which was pathetically close. Laura had thought she’d made it far, but it had been one hallway. On her own, it had seemed like the start of an adventure. With Carmilla, she’d barely blinked and she was back where she started. 

Laura had thought today was the perfect opportunity to go scouting, because nobody would have expected it of her. Turned out this time was a time when the ominous ‘they’ knew better than Laura did. She was wiped. It was like the worst sugar crash of her life, with a side dose of continuing to not have sugar. The hospital only let her have one dessert. Had Laura complained about the pudding yet? She needed to complain about the pudding. 

“Here you are,” Carmilla said, and slid her way loose, careful not to jar anything. Laura grinned, much as she could without her head trying to tear itself back apart. Carmilla smiled back, pretty in the full light of the hallway. “It’s been interesting.” 

Laura winked. That, at least, didn’t hurt. “I’ve been told I have an interesting personality.” She lowered her voice, wanting Carmilla to lean in. “I’ve also been told I talk too much. Have I talked too much?” 

Carmilla’s smile grew into something much more genuine. The fluorescents flickered once, casting shadows in the curls of her dark hair. “No. Not at all.”

Thoughts of Carmilla lingered with Laura, long after she’d crawled into her pile of blankets on the hospital bed, and reclined it back and forth enough times to fine tune her comfort. She kind of wanted a bed like this at home. Would she need to be in permanent trauma to get a cool reclinable hospital bed? Probably. That probably wasn’t worth it.

Carmilla never had answered whether or not she was a nurse. And even with a fresh dose of painkillers in her system, Laura’s budding journalism career was itching. She had a thousand questions more than she had when she’d left the room in the first place.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she’d have another information session with the doctor, and she’d find out what she’d meant to look for today. Tomorrow, she’d search out Carmilla and have a real conversation. 

Unless she was still on painkillers tomorrow. Then she’d do her best, and probably complain about the pudding. Seriously, it was even generic brand. Silas’s hospital was a cheapskate. 

Carmilla’s smile stayed with her all the way into sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Laura had the vaguely disappointing pancakes again for breakfast. If possible, they were even more rubbery than the day before.

It was still surprising, though. Everyone knew that hospital food was terrible, but it… wasn’t? It was just overly packaged and mediocre. Not exactly interesting enough to hold Laura’s attention. Not even the gigantic antibiotic horse pill at five in the morning had been enough to ruin Laura’s day.

Laura played with the maple syrup packet — sorry, _breakfast syrup_. It didn’t look suspicious, but then again, Laura was probably still high as a kite. She had been yesterday, though she hadn’t really noticed it much at the time. It was more the focus thing that had grabbed her attention — and she was more than a little mortified when she’d thought back on the conversation she’d had with Carmilla the other day.  

This whole mission; finding the missing girls, fixing her admittedly not-as-bad-as-it-could-have-been hearing… Not that Laura had expected it to be easy, but she hadn’t expected all the difficulty to come from herself. She had expected the Silas U equivalent of a three headed Fluffy, something fire breathing, maybe, or just a supernaturally gifted alarm system that sicced Alchemy Club spores on her if she went poking in the wrong files. But no. Laura wasn’t having trouble because she was failing out from underneath herself.

Not just her body, though that was insulting enough. Honestly, she hadn’t done much to it! The operation was on a _tiny_ area, head or not. She wasn’t bleeding all over the floor. She wasn’t in much pain. Still, every time she stood it up, Laura was half sure she was actually hanging upside down. Her feet may have been steady, but her head was convinced it had been co-opted into being a Bludger. 

Or maybe a Quaffle. Bludgers smacked themselves around.

And that was the worst part. Laura’s mind wasn’t clicking around things like it normally did. Everything was slow, sedate, and sleepy. Somewhere in the distance, Laf was laughing at her. Laura had been warned. She had ignored those warnings. Next time — not that there would be a next time — she would listen.

“Feeling better this morning, cupcake?”

Laura’s legs jerked, sending the empty packets of Breakfast Syrup rattling to the floor. It wasn’t maple syrup, okay? She needed more of it to make up for the fact that it was trying to lie to her taste buds. “Carmilla?”

“Can I come in?” Carmilla said, still leaning on the door with the kind of casual grace that _had_ to be deliberate. She had on the same leather jacket as the day before, but with her hands jammed in the pockets for a whole new look. “Or,” Carmilla said, and hushed her voice to a stage whisper, “Do we need to hide from the janitor? I’ve heard you might not want to be _seen_.”

Laura went red. She stared at the floor, at the little containers of breakfast syrup. How much effort would it be to get out of bed and grab them? Her aching head didn’t even want to think about it. “I have my reasons! Good reasons.”

Even saying that was almost too much. Laura’s face twisted, and without thinking she went to touch her head again. From the door, Carmilla muttered something uncomplimentary sounding and unintelligible, and was at Laura’s bedside fast enough to drag her hand down. “We’ve been over this, cutie. No poking at the fresh wound.” 

“It’s day three,” Laura said, reasonably. It didn’t really feel like it had been three entire days, but time had a habit of sneaking up from behind her. It was kind of like when she’d spent an entire weekend rewatching Doctor Who and hadn’t realized it was time for class again until Laf exploded something. “It’s not fresh. Well aged, more like.”

Carmilla’s nostrils definitely flared this time. Her fingers, warm against Laura’s, grew a little tighter. “I don’t think you actually know what you’re talking about.”

Laura glared, and withdrew her hand to cross it under her chest. She’d remembered the day before that she actually had packed clothes, but she hadn’t packed anything particularly intelligent. Meaning, all clothes with small neck holes that would need to be pulled over her bandaged head. Yeah, no. As embarrassing as it was, Laura was going to stick with the doubled hospital gowns. “Do you?” she said, petulant, and suddenly remembered their conversation. “Are you a nurse then? You never gave me a straight answer about that.”

Carmilla hadn’t moved from Laura’s adjustable bedside. She wasn’t quite as close as she’d been when they were hiding in the closet, but it was enough to remind Laura that she was truly, definitely gay. “Not a nurse, but I don’t need to be to know you’re in pain.” 

Laura couldn't really do much to protest but scowl gently. Anything more hurt. She really, really needed to ask a doctor what exactly they’d done to fix her hearing. Did they stab every other muscle in her face on the way to the inner ear? “Whatever.” 

Carmilla stared at Laura for an excessively long moment, her face pensive, then leaned over Laura to grab a bottle from a nightstand on the other side of the bed. If Laura hadn’t been preoccupied by her aching, concerningly pressurized head, she would have taken note of Carmilla’s chest passing very close to her face. 

Laura still kind of noticed the cleavage in her face.

Carmilla held the bottle up to the light, squinting at the label. Then she unscrewed the lid, and expertly shook a single pill into her hand. She held it out to Laura. “Here.”

Something ugly turned in Laura’s stomach. The tape itched at her head — the nurse had removed the useless pad over the shell of her ear earlier, but the steristrips remained. “I’m fine.”

“You’re wincing every time you speak,” Carmilla said, and didn’t lower her hand. “Not to mention the fact that I know you just ate. It hurts. The point is to not overload your body with pain and stress, cutie.” 

Laura’s stomach just knotted again. Her heart thumped uncomfortably against her ribs. One more thing that was unhappy with her. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “Seriously. Put it away.” 

Carmilla’s outstretched hand didn’t even waver. “I didn’t come here to watch you writhe in pain. Take the morphine.” 

Laura didn’t want that fog across her mind again. It felt like losing herself, like she was a ship off at sea, and it was impossible to find the shore again unless she broke herself up against it. “I-“

“Laura,” Carmilla said, and hearing her name was enough of a surprise that Laura caught eyes with her. Carmilla’s eyes were dark and serious. “It wears off. In a few days, they’ll lower your dose, and then you’ll go off it entirely. It can’t erase you."

Laura bit her lip, the slight pressure not anything on the rest of the pain. Carmilla was right. Pain was a lot of stress on the body, and she didn’t need to add any more after all the drills and needles and other tools that she had thankfully never seen in person.

Wordlessly, Laura took the pill, and Carmilla handed her the styrofoam cup of half-melted ice as well. They had unlimited ice here, and Laura was taking full advantage. Nothing happened immediately, and Laura clung to that. Maybe if she focused more this time- 

“So, are you going to tell me what you needed to hide from the janitors?"

Laura had enough presence of mind to be both suspicious and embarrassed. Her head pinged, faintly, at Carmilla’s soft weight settling down next to her legs. She was glad the hospital bed had plastic bars along the sides — she didn’t know how she’d be able to cope if Carmilla had been sitting closer. “Well, not from the janitor, specifically.”

Carmilla cocked an eyebrow. The bed wasn’t moving even a little under her body, no little shifts or shakes like what would have happened if Laf or Laura’s dad had decided to set themselves down. Laura appreciated it. Her head also appreciated it, a _lot_. “Really? So it’s a full on conspiracy then, cutie?”

Laura did _not_ appreciate how lightly she was taking this. “Yes!” Laura hissed. Something sibilant rang in her dead ear, like a feedback loop, her brain trying to feed the black hole that had once been a semi functional sense. “Look, I’m not just here to get my stupid, useless ear fixed with an experimental procedure that even Laf couldn’t understand-“

Carmilla fell into motion, her fingers twitching, her leg tugging at the sheets around Laura’s legs. Laura hadn’t realized how unnaturally still she had been until everything roared into life. “You’re here for _that_?” 

Laura stared. Her head throbbed, but the morphine was already carrying some of that away. She didn’t feel foggy yet, though. Good thing, if she needed to argue with her maybe-german not-nurse. “Yes?” It came out less of a question, and more of a bewildered accusation. “Is there something wrong with it?”

Abruptly, Carmilla’s movements stilled again. Laura couldn’t detect a breath. Carmilla’s eyes wouldn’t meet her own. “Look, I have to go.”

“No!” Laura burst out, and sat upright fast enough to set her head spinning. She grabbed Carmilla’s cool hand in her own again. “Tell me. What’s wrong with fixing my hearing?” She paused, calculating. Carmilla’s fingers were dead in hers. “Is it… to do with the missing girls?” 

This time, Carmilla’s burst of movement propelled her from the bed. She didn’t jar anything, which was a superheroic feat if there ever was one. There was something expert about the movement, about extricating herself from the bed of a patient. Laura didn’t believe she was a nurse, not anymore, but Carmilla _had_ to have spent a lot of time in hospitals to be this familiar with everything. “No.”

Laura’s empty hand curled into a fist. “That doesn’t sound convincing." 

“I was stupid.” Carmilla laughed, bitter and self-deprecating. She still wasn’t looking at Laura, addressing her words to an entity in the air. Her eyes turned haunted, her steps an uncomfortable cadence. “Look, cupcake, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be here at all. Just…” she waved again, a jerky motion. “Heal. Enjoy your life.”

“You sound like you want to say ‘while it lasts’,” Laura said, and tried not to think about how terrifying that was. She pulled the pile of blankets off her legs, and the cold of the floor was much less of shock than it had been the day before. “Carmilla, do you know what’s going on here?"

Carmilla took a ragged breath, dragged a hand through her long hair. Laura’s heart skipped a beat, the first time her body had protested even as she’d dragged it unceremoniously from the bed. Wasn’t the third day supposed to be the worst? Aside from the pain — and granted, there was a _lot_ of pain — Laura felt fine. Nothing like the day before.

But that was something to think about later. Now, all Laura could see was the ragged edges of a scar at Carmilla’s hairline, behind her ear. It looked nothing like the neat little stitches Laura knew lingered behind her own ear — instead of a precise line, it was a gouge, tendrils of scar tissue reaching halfway down Carmilla’s neck, and disappearing into her mess of hair.

Laura took a step closer, her breath caught in her chest. “Is that- did something go wrong?"

Carmilla dropped her hand like she’d been burned, and truly glared at Laura. The friendliness and care that had been so carefully painted on her features dropped away, and Carmilla all but snarled. “I’m going. Don’t try to follow me.”

“But-“ 

Carmilla wrenched the door open, the hinges screeching as the door canted, hanging half-off the frame. “ _Don’t_ ,” she said, and if Laura hadn’t felt that same kind of fear in herself just a moment before, she wouldn’t have recognized it.  

But Laura did. She felt the same fear curling in her stomach, the terrifying feeling that the drugs were going to strip her of who she was because she couldn't find her words — and what _was_ Laura Hollis but words? Words on paper, words in her mouth.

Carmilla was terror-struck because something was trying to rip her from herself.

Laura let Carmilla’s words spill from her, the pain still sharp in her head and heart. “It can’t erase you. Not if you won’t let it.”

They caught eyes then, Carmilla halfway through whirling to slam the door. Everything froze in fractions, the clock silent on the wall, the ugly, awful feeling curdled in Laura’s stomach.

Then Carmilla whipped off, her boots slamming against the hospital tile like it had personally offended her. But. She hadn’t slammed the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Laura wasn’t getting sick of hospital food, but she was getting sick of all the packaging. It wasn’t like Laura was a saint when it came to garbage — she bought too many vending machine goodies for that — but she at least tried to not throw out any more than she had to.

The hospital, though? It was like it was _trying_ to destroy the earth. The little ice creams she’d enjoyed so much came in Styrofoam. Who even used Styrofoam anymore? It was impossible to pretend Styrofoam took less than approximately a million years to decompose. Save people and kill the planet? Was that their motivation?

The mini pizza Laura had ordered for brunch of day five was the only thing she’d had so far that didn’t come strangled in plastic. Presumably, it had originally been decked out in a nice, shiny outfit, but someone had removed it to heat it up. Oh well. Plausible deniability.

Laura was glad she had put off Laf’s visit another day. Day four had been a blurry, awful nightmare. It would have been even worse if Carmilla hadn’t persuaded her to keep taking her pain medication in full. 

Laf popped another couple Fruit Loops into their mouth. Laura had ordered extra food because her friend had forgotten to eat breakfast — but it had made the nurse that brought her the tray give her the strangest look yet. Pizza and Fruit Loops _was_ a weird choice, she had to admit. Not that Laf agreed. “Hey, Hollis, are you gonna finish that pizza?”

Laura jammed the slice into her mouth. “Yes,” she said, or attempted to say. The pizza tasted like pizza, which is more than she could say for the waffle she’d had that morning. She’d think they’d make the pancakes and waffles with the same batter, but no. “Eat your fruit loops and catch me up on everything.”

Laf rolled their eyes. They kept looking to the strips behind Laura’s ear. If there had been another place to make Laf sit in the tiny room, Laura would have made them move. As it was, though, there was the bed and there was the built in cot in the back. Unlike Carmilla, Laura didn’t have a lot of faith in Laf not managing to jolt her. 

The pain had mostly faded. Laura had seen the drastic reduction in her painkillers, and she was glad to have the sleepy feeling pried away from her mind. 

That was the one thing she was glad hadn’t lived up to her expectations in the hospital. She’d been afraid she’d blurt out her plans to the nurse, and everything would be over. Laura half-thought the drugs would mess with her brain enough that she wouldn’t even be aware of what she was saying. In books, it always seemed so dramatic.

In real life? Not so much. Sure, her impulse control was a little on the tired side — she’d called Lafontaine dapper when they’d first walked in. But that was more a matter of not caring as much about seeming silly. The real secrets? She could taste them on her tongue, but she was herself enough not to let them free.

“You don’t see as out of it as I expected, frosh,” Laf said, mirroring Laura’s thoughts. They dug for another Fruit Loop, nonchalant. “When you texted me when you first got out of surgery — now _that_ was what I’d expected.” 

Laura couldn’t help but snicker. She didn’t remember a good ten minutes from when she’d first apparently woken up — but her message log did. They were comedy gold. “Were you worried about me?”

Laf snorted, and Laura grinned at them. “Nah. I knew what was happening, so it was mostly just hilarious.” They paused, and considered the Fruit Loop in their hand. “Definitely hilarious.”

“Thanks,” Laura said dryly. Honestly, she was more annoyed she hadn’t been funny on purpose. “So, has anything interesting happened while I’ve been out of it?”

“Perr made at least four batches of cookies yesterday alone, but other than that?” Laf shrugged, and tipped the last of the Fruit Loops into their hand. “Nah. Did you get any sneaking around done?” 

Laura sighed. Usually, it would be a little better than this, but her brain didn’t have any energy left over to string the words back into something sensical. “Squeaking around dune?”

Laf was quick on the uptake, like they always were. That was one of Laura’s favourite things about them — they didn’t mind repeating themselves ad infinitum. “Did you get any sneaking around done?" 

“Well-”

Before Laura had to admit she’d stumbled into a closet with a stranger while completely stoned instead of doing reconnaissance like they’d planned, the nurse knocked. Laf tossed the empty box onto Laura’s bed like a good co-conspirator, and then the nurse poked her head in. “Hey!” she said, and then noticed Laf. “And hello! I’m just here to take off the steri strips, unless you’d like me to come back later?”

There was something in Laf’s eyes that read like suspicion, but Laura gestured the nurse in before her friend could say anything. “No, it’s fine. We were just talking about… hospital food. Definitely. It’s not super environmentally friendly, is it?”

“No,” the nurse admitted. Laura sat up in bed, turning so the nurse had access to her head. “I’m going to be rubbing something on it to make it easier to remove, okay?”

Laura gave her a thumbs up. A Q-tip poked at her incision, and she fixed her gaze on her friend. It felt almost oddly warm, and Laura couldn’t help but wonder if it was from the friction, or maybe the chemical — and she winced, as it hit a sore part. Ow. 

Laf was watching her carefully, and Laura gave them a thumbs up too. No need for them to worry. “That hurt a little there,” she told the nurse. She’d been very carefully counselled by her father to tell the nurses if anything was even slightly hurting. They couldn’t know unless she told them, and if she didn’t tell them, something could go wrong and she could die. 

Laura didn’t really think it would go that far, but better safe than sorry. 

The nurse hummed an affirmative, and paused. “Sharp pain?” 

“No. Just… sore.”

The nurse resumed. “That’s okay. I’ll go slower then, how about that?”

“Cool beans,” Laura said, and held her head as still as possible while the nurse peeled the first strip off. Whatever magic goo the nurse had put on it had lessened the adhesive enough that none of Laura’s hair came off with it, which was a feat all in itself. 

The other two strips came off in quick succession, and the nurse straightened. “All right. We’re all done. Are you good on pain?”

Laura had heard ‘pin', but it was easy enough to figure out what the nurse had actually said. “Yep!”

The nurse smiled. “Good!” She nodded at Laf, too, on her way out. Laf didn’t acknowledge it.

Laura ran a very soft, careful finger over the incision. Thick scabs, probably nearly black if it was healing like the gash Laura had had on her foot when she was eleven. She’d been trying to chase a boy who’d stolen Jenny’s homework across a stretch of sand on her bike. Which had metal pedals.

“Laur, maybe a no on the touching fresh wound.” Laf sounded concerned. She also sounded like Carmilla, but Laura didn’t want to think about that. She’d been an idiot and pushed too hard with the only friend she might’ve made in this place yesterday. There was no need to slap comparisons on Laf when they were here for only a short time. 

“It’s not that fresh.” Laura left the incision alone, satisfied she’d scoped it out, and prodded gentle fingers over her skull. She still wasn’t entirely clear on what the surgery had done, but she knew that there had been something inserted just under the skin. It was odd, to know that and not know _where._

Laf scoffed, and shifted to the edge of the cot, their arms braced across their thighs. Laura bounced slightly, but concealed her wince so Laf wouldn’t feel guilty. “Look, I don’t know what kind of painkillers you’re on, Hollis, but aren’t you at least a little concerned that they came to take the bandage off so early?”

Laura winced, more from the oddity of it than pain. There _was_ something under her fingers. It wasn’t large, or tall, but it was there. Creeping, slender tendrils. That explained the sense of pressure, then. Her skin crawled. Intellectually, Laura didn’t mind whatever they’d done. Her lizard brain, on the other hand, was the opposite of happy. “Early?" 

“You mean you haven’t kept track of how long it takes types of wounds to heal?” Laf said, in the sort of tone that implied they had entire albums of photos documenting this sort of thing. “Seriously? What do you _do_ when you get injured?”

“Bandage it and wait for it to heal,” Laura said, like a sensible person. Injuries happened, sure, but Laura was more focused on fixing the thing that made the injuries happen than examining the way they worked. She skimmed her fingers over the bump again, then smacked her hands down in her lap before she started really freaking out. “Wait. You think this is early?”

Laf nodded, their words coming hard and fast. “Yeah. What is this, day four? For a comparable operation, you’d leave that on for six, seven days. That alone isn’t concerning, but listen, most people under similar circumstances take morphine at the higher dose for _weeks_ , Laura. You’re halved by the fourth day. You should still be in enough pain to need the 10mg."

“That was my choice!” Laura said, but her lizard brain hissed anyway. She’d thought it was… but they’d offered. Why would the hospital offer such a low dosage only a few days after the surgery? “What are you saying?”

La spread their hands. “I don’t know. But _something_ is definitely off here.” They scratched the back of their neck, thinking. It was reassuring, to have someone else working with her on this. Laura hadn’t expected it to be so hard, trying to work this alone.  

 _You wouldn’t have been alone if you hadn’t chased off Carmilla_ , a little voice told her, unhelpfully. Laura blamed the morphine. “You think I’m safe, then?”

Laf stared into the middle distance for a moment. “Yeah,” they said slowly. “Yeah. You’ll be fine. You’re a patient, right? They want you to be here, under observation, for a little while longer. The last thing they want is for you to be harmed.” 

Laura squinted at them. “You sound like you’re telling me I’m a science project!”

Laf only scoffed, which was the opposite of reassuring. Laura almost felt like Laf was jealous they didn’t get to be the experiment. “You’re here for a study, Hollis. What did you expect?”

Laura threw the box of Fruit Loops back at her friend. “Not mad science. That’s what I’m friends with you for! Hospitals are for… I don’t know, sensible science!” 

If the missing girls hadn’t been here, Laura didn’t know if she’d ever have taken Silas up on its offer to fix her ear. It had never been exactly useful, not since she’d been little enough to not get in trouble for getting the principal fired for embezzlement. But… with a push, Laura had taken the chance. Even if it didn’t work, she didn’t have much to lose.

“Sensible science,” Laf said, and laughed hard enough that Laura couldn’t help but join in. “Sure, sure. That definitely happens.”

“I can only hope,” Laura said, and cupped a hand over the bump under her skin for a half second. This time, she let go before her mind started screaming. “I guess I’ll leave the wild science for you, then.” 

Laf stood, and patted Laura’s shoulder. She’d expected it to hurt, but- it didn’t. Unease ate at her stomach. “I’d appreciate it. Good to see you, though, Laur. Are you good to meet up again in a couple more days? I think I’ve been making inroads at analyzing some of the goo we found in the girl’s dorms last year.”

Laura nodded, and let her friend’s hand drop away. She kind of wanted to ask Laf to stay, but that wasn’t fair. “If I can get any info from here, I’ll text you.”

Laf nodded, concisely. Their hand hovered over the door handle. “Sounds good.” 

“Sounds,” Laura said, and scraped a gentle nail over the fast-healing incision behind her ear. The touch barely registered. “Sounds might not be so good. We’ll see.” 

“Dramatic as ever, frosh,” Laf said, and left Laura to her thoughts.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
With a couple more days than she’d expected to prepare, Laura was beyond ready to get down to sleuthing. While the whole ‘recovering from surgery’ thing had taken longer than Laura had expected — and she was still annoyed at her body for that, what kind of overdramatic nonsense was that? — but she was more prepared now. Yesterday, Laf had all but given her the go ahead to go prying into the hospital’s business again.

It was time to look for the missing girls. Now that Laura had been hanging around the hospital and nurses a little longer, she knew where to look. She knew where they kept the records for recent patients, before the copies from this floor got shredded. She could always try going through the shredder, too, if she thought she had time to try and recompile those. 

Her dad had taught her good puzzle skills that way. Sherman Hollis was a big fan of useful skills like that. Screaming was another one. Anything that would help Laura get out of messy situations. 

To be honest, Laura mostly used her skills to get _into_ messy situations. 

She had intended to get into this situation, after all. It just sucked that her fake thermos with a camera inside wasn’t working. It wouldn’t even turn on. Laura would chalk that up as suspicious, but she’d probably tried to pour water into it when she was recovering from surgery. Or maybe dropped it. Or both. Who even knew.

Laura stopped for a tiny styrofoam cup of water with lots and lots of ice — hydration was important — before cracking the door to the record room and slipping inside.

She let out a breath. That was the hard part. It was going to be simple now — get the things, stuff it inside her shirt, and sneak back to her room. Easy peasy. Just like—

Something rustled, behind the cabinets, and dark head popped up. Carmilla stared at Laura, looking almost as guilty as Laura felt. What was she doing here?

The silence held another couple seconds. Then Carmilla smacked her hand on top of the filing cabinet, a metal atrocity that looked like you could get tetanus just by breathing near it. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

Laura raised an eyebrow. Confident people raised eyebrows. “Oh? Should you?" 

“Go back to your room,” Carmilla said tightly. Her fingers drummed lightly against the top of the metal, and the noise rattled around the inside of Laura’s head with all the grace of a heavy metal band.

Laura abandoned her empty cup to a desk covered in old, empty manila files, and crossed her arms over her chest. Finally, with the bandage gone and the incision well and truly on the road to healing, she’d felt confident to tug a shirt over her head. She’d probably stretched out the neck — okay, _definitely_ stretched out the neck — but it felt so nice to be wearing proper clothes again. Laura felt like herself again, not just the body that had laid on that cold metal table. “What, no nicknames?”

Carmilla’s jaw clenched. Laura could practically hear her teeth grinding. “Get back to your room. You have a meeting with the doctor. You don’t want to be…” and Carmilla’s eyes almost flashed, bitter and dark. “ _Missing_.”

“Appointment? I haven’t been told about any-” Laura said, and then almost stomped her foot. For a person that didn’t know her very well, Carmilla was very good at distracting her. Not this time. “Are you trying to play with me? I _told_ you I was looking for those girls.” 

“Go back to your _room_ ,” Carmilla growled, and shoved the drawer in front of her shut. She made her way around the filing cabinet, and Laura tried not to notice that she was between Laura and the files, her posture wide like she expected Laura to tackle her for it. “Go. You’re going to get in trouble.” 

Laura frowned thunderously. “Do you think I care?”

“You should.” Carmilla glanced to the door, and back at Laura. Her foot tapped, the exasperation building. “Seriously, cupcake, I’m not kidding around. You’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before they start looking for you.” 

“Then _you’ve_ got fifteen minutes to explain to me why you ran out!”

Carmilla almost snarled at that, but just as soon as she had, she stilled. Laura stilled, too, stopped worrying at her wrist. Her pulse beat under her skin, and though Laura wasn’t able to properly count both time and heartbeats at the same time, it seemed thready. Odd.

“Do you know where they do the surgery?” Carmilla asked. It was such a non sequitur that Laura had to take a moment to stare, her mind clumsily trying to switch gears. She was trying to do something. Where was she trying to lead Laura? 

“No.” Maybe that was a bad thing. Carmilla’s face in general seemed to imply it was a bad thing. Carmilla face was very good at doing lots of things, like looking unfairly pretty when she was scowling. 

Carmilla tapped at a spot between her temple and the top of her ear. An edge of rippled scar tissue peeked out from beneath her hair. “They drill into a cavity to get their… thing in there. I’m sure you’ve felt its effects by now. Growng. Spreading.” 

Laura ghosted another finger across her pulse, gave it another attempt at counting the beats. It wasn’t helping calm her down like it usually did. The steady rhythm was _off_. “Thing.”

Carmilla ran a finger back behind her ear, and Laura’s healing scar twinged in sympathy. “What it is isn't important right now. What I’m _trying_ to tell you is important, okay Laura? Can you _listen_?”

Laura almost wanted to say _no_ , just to annoy her, but there was something about Carmilla’s pretty, pretty face that forbade it. Instead, she nodded. Carmilla took a deep breath. “In that cavity there’s access to the cochlea — the part of your ear that stores the nerve hairs that send electrical signals representing sounds to the brain. You know this?”

Laura nodded again. It was Hearing Loss 101. Cochlea, nerve hairs responsible for certain frequencies, damage them and you can’t hear those sounds anymore. It was what had happened to her hearing. Even if she didn’t know specifically _why_ her inner ear decided to die on her, she knew the logistics of it.

“Also in that cavity,” and Carmilla dropped her hand to drum her fingers against her leather-pant clad thigh. It took more effort than it probably should have to focus on her words instead of her legs, but Laura managed. Or possibly multitasked. “Are nerves that are responsible for controlling taste, sensation, and movement of your face. You remember when the doctor asked you to move your face around?" 

Laura vaguely remembered that. It had been back on one of the days that loomed in her memories as a cloud of awful, morphine laced fog. “Yeah.” She made a face, half because it wasn’t a pleasant memory, and half to prove she could do it.

Carmilla almost snorted. Laura’s lips twitched. “Well, they were checking to make sure they hadn’t nicked any of those nerves in surgery.” 

Laura winced, one hand flying to the side of her face. Her heart throbbed, the same way it had been doing since Laf left. She didn’t know which one needed more urgent attention. “That’s… not good. I’m glad it didn’t happen?”

Carmilla’s eyes fixed on Laura’s other hand, where it had decided to settle on her chest. The last of the animosity drained from her face, and she was almost the girl Laura had first met again. “Are you…” she sighed. Her eyes flicked up, meeting Laura’s. Her voice came out a lot softer this time. “Are you okay?" 

Laura nodded again, small, and then her heart gave another awful pound and tears pricked at her eyes. She took a deep breath, but the pressure only made it easier to feel her malfunctioning heart. Her eyes burned. “Yes,” she said, but it came out strangled and entirely unconvincing.

She didn’t notice the pain in her wrist until Carmilla stepped closer and wrapped her hands around it too. Laura looked down to see her left hand white knuckled on her right, her pulse vibrating against her hand. Carmilla loosened Laura’s fingers, one by one, until Laura wasn’t gripping her own wrist anymore. The skin was blanched white for what seemed like an eternity until finally, the colour flooded back in. “That doesn’t exactly look okay to me, cupcake.”

Laura swallowed hard, trying to beat back the tears. Why was she crying? She thought she was done crying. It had been enough when she burst into tears about the state of queerbaiting on TV on the second day, alone in her room, because the drugs had her on an emotional razor's edge. “My heart’s been bothering me today.” She paused, her mouth still slightly open. There was more, an encyclopaedia more of things to say to explain what it felt like, but the words had all fallen away.

“Like it's beating too hard,” Carmilla filled in. “But not quite. Like it's too heavy. You can feel it, and it’s too strong and not enough, like it's working too hard and struggling. Like you can feel the blood leaking away.” 

“Like you can’t even describe,” Laura whispered. Her heart beat against her chest, sloppily. She could feel it, more than she’d ever wanted to. It wasn’t just uncomfortable. It was frightening. And that didn’t make her heart slow down any. 

Carmilla was still holding Laura’s hands in hers, cool and reassuring. “The doctors will tell you it’s morphine. And it can be.”

Laura laughed, choking on her red-hot throat. “Can be?” She was half tempted to make another joke about Carmilla being a nurse, but her words… She knew. Whatever Laura was going through, whatever they had done to her, Carmilla knew what it was. Personally. 

Carmilla extricated her hands, and was kinder about it than she could have been. Whatever her problem had been yesterday, she seemed to be over it. Her eyes roamed over Laura, taking in the bandage-less ear, the nail marks on her arm, the old sleep shirt, still sagging at the neck. “I think what you need to worry about more is getting back to your room."

Laura blinked. Carmilla’s warnings came rushing back to her. The girl even managed to look a little worried. It was suspicious, really, that Laura apparently had an appointment that Carmilla could know about that Laura wouldn’t. “What’s the appointment for?”

“I think the thing about appointments is that it’s an appointed time to do something, so you’ll find out then.” Carmilla cast about the room, and her eyes latched onto Laura’s abandoned cup. She snatched it, and shoved it back into Laura’s hands. “Just tell them you were off getting water.”

Laura looked at her. “You really are afraid of the doctor, aren’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Carmilla rolled her eyes, and made a shooing motion. “ _Go_ , cupcake. Unless you fancy getting caught out by someone worse than a janitor.”

Laura cracked a smile at that. Somehow, it was reassuring to know that somebody else knew she existed. Someone to look for if she went missing. Maybe that was it. Or maybe it was just Carmilla. “Impossible.” 

“ _Go_.”

Laura scampered for the door. Her heart gave another funny thud, but Carmilla’s reassurance, unwillingly given as it had been, was enough to distract her. “Going!”

She left the door open, and with the window across the hall, Laura could see Carmilla’s reflection watching her back until Laura was out of sight.

* * *

 

On her way back to her room, Laura almost got distracted enough imagining cookies to forget that there would be a doctor waiting for her. It had been so long since she’d be able to eat simple, honest food, like Chips Ahoy, or the generic version that had sweeter chocolate chips. That stuff was packaged for freshness. Hospital food was packaged for blandness and maximum effort in opening — even if the patient was stuck in bed, they’d feel like they’d achieved something in conquering their breakfast tray.

Laura knew her priorities, okay? Healing, but also food. It was impossible to heal if you didn’t have good food!

Halfway through that train of thought, Laura pushed open the door to 307, and nearly had a heart attack when she saw someone standing in her room. Because it was _her_ room, after nearly a week at the hospital. For being under observation, Laura sure didn’t seem to be being observed very much. 

“Hi!” Laura blurted, in a semi successful attempt to not accuse the person of being an unwanted interloper. Her tone managed to say it, anyway. Water sloshed over the edge of her cup as she set it down on her bedside table, still staring at the woman who had to be the doctor. “I was getting water. Hydrated, that’s me. I love eating water.”

She’d meant ice, but something had misfired between her brain and her mouth. At least it had been a better first impression than Carmilla. She hadn’t called her doctor a cupcake. Yet. There was a possibility for failure in every interaction. 

The woman turned, her warm eyes fixing on Laura with the immediacy of a hunter. Laura felt targeted. Assessed. Stripped into her component parts and examined. Instead of the scrubs all the nurses wore, she was wearing a slim black and white dress, striking against her dark skin. That cemented her as a doctor more than anything else. “Miss Hollis. How kind of you to make an appearance.” 

Laura wished she hadn’t put down her water. With the doctor staring at her so closely, her mouth had gone dry. All of Carmilla’s warnings came rushing back to her, and the friendly little 307 threatened to transform into an Iron Maiden. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

That, too, wasn’t exactly the tone Laura had been going for, but life had yet to invent an undo button, so she was stuck with it. 

The doctor raised an eyebrow, then offered her hand. Somehow the gesture of friendship managed to look condescending. She defined the motion — it did not define her. “Doctor Matska Belmonde. You can call me Mattie."

Laura shook Mattie’s hand, firm, like her dad had taught her. If someone knew she had a strong grip, they would be less likely to murder her. That was her dad’s logic, and Laura wasn’t sure she believed it, but it couldn’t hurt to try. Not that her doctor would be trying to murder her. Probably. Hopefully. “Awesome. So, you’re just here to say hi?”

Mattie blinked at her, slowly, then smiled. On someone else, it could have been called a gentle smile, but the word and the look in Mattie’s eyes didn’t quite seem to match up. “Not quite. There’s a few things I need to check, if you don’t mind.”

Laura looked at her, and tried to think of a word that fit. Something the opposite of gentle. “Sure. I love getting checked out.” She knew it was a mistake as soon as she said it, but thankfully there was a large lack of murdering happening in reaction. Do no harm. That was one thing she knew about doctors.

But then she thought of the fear in Carmilla’s eyes, the twining scars up the side of her hairline, and the way she’d known exactly what Laura’s misbehaving heartbeat had felt like. So maybe not.

“May I?”

Laura started, but managed to not snap her head to the side. That would have been bad. Though the pain had mostly faded, quick movements weren’t a good idea with the incision still so fresh. Even though Laf insisted that it was healing incredibly fast, it was still tender and prone to complaining if anything did _anything_. Laura still remembered the ache of the first day, when she had to hold her head incredibly still and her muscles had seized up from the stress. Her whole body had hurt. Quick healing may have been suspicious, but Laura was grateful for the reprieve. “May you… what?” 

Mattie gestured to Laura’s head. Laura didn’t know what a surgeon’s hands were supposed to look like — dexterous? slim? — but somehow Mattie’s hands didn’t fit her image. Her nails were trimmed, and her fingers weren’t hesitant, but there was something just _off_.

Something rasped in Laura’s ears, half nails on a chalkboard, half a boot dragging through gravel, and she shivered. “Oh. Yeah. Don’t… poke it too hard.”

Mattie chuckled, and stepped closer. Grace, Laura decided. That was a word for Mattie. Unsettling grace. “I would never, darling.” 

Mattie’s fingers were cool against Laura’s skin as she brushed back Laura’s hair to get a good look at the operation site. Laura held her head still, the tightness of that first day returning to her neck. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see Mattie, since the woman was standing at her side, but she tried anyway. Laura could see an arm, the bottom of her dress, but not her expression. She wished she could. If only Laf had been able to hang around. Laura wanted to know exactly what her doctor was thinking of her surgery.

 _Somebody_ had to know something about what was going on. Honestly.

“Hmm.” Mattie said, and Laura almost jumped away as Mattie’s finger traced the edges of her wound. The skin felt dead, wrong. Intellectually, Laura knew it was because the nerves had been cut with the skin, and proper sensation would come back in time, but… Unnerving. Just like Mattie, stepping a little closer, her feet crossing like a dancer.

“Um,” Laura said, and tried not to bat Mattie’s hands away. She’d mostly not touched the area of her operation for that reason — any touch made her want to peel her skin off and run away screaming. Though the skin had healed, apparently the nerves were an entirely different story. “Is that a good hmm? Or one that means I have a giant infection and am about to die?” 

Laf would have told her if there was an infection. Probably. Would Laf know what to look for? All Laura really knew about infections is that they usually meant swelling and redness and pain. Maybe it wasn’t in pain because she was turning her head? Maybe it was infected and that’s why they were keeping her so long. Better to die on hospital premises, right?

“It isn’t a bad sound, goodness. Don’t be so jumpy.” Mattie sighed, her breath against Laura’s neck. Again, Laura startled. She hadn’t noticed how close the doctor had been. Mattie’s finger traced the line of Laura’s hairline again, and Laura winced when it hit against a bruise on the shell of her ear. Laf had told Laura’s semi-high self it was likely from the ear being clamped back during surgery, which was not really what she wanted to be thinking about right now. “Have you noticed anything strange with taste? Any problems with appetite?”

Laura thought guiltily of the giant pile of wrappers in her garbage and how she was responsible for probably an entire degree of global warming. “No. Everything’s fine. Just problems eating in the beginning because it was painful to open my jaw too wide.”

Mattie hmmed again, and this time it was definitely to get under Laura’s skin. She dropped her hand, stepping back so that Laura could see her fully again. Her face was that placid, gentle-but-not look again, the one that stubbornly refused to give up any information. Really, she would be great at PR. Certainly the American President needed someone who could say incriminating things with an unaffected expression. “Yes, I think it’s time for you to start taking your supplement.”

“Supplement?” Laura said incredulously. This whole thing was seeming more and more ridiculous by the day. Study or not, there was really no reason to keep her here at the hospital for so many days on end. Couldn’t she just check back in? It wasn’t like the nurses were questioning her about how she was feeling extensively. More of a pain check in than anything else. “None of my forms told me anything about supplements.” 

Mattie waved an elegant hand. “Nothing really, poppet. Just something for you to drink in the mornings.” Her gaze travelled, like a physical thing, to the cup on Laura’s nightstand. “Or in the afternoons, if that’s what you’d prefer. We’re ever so flexible here at Silas.”

“Mornings.” If she had to suffer through chugging some medical mineral water, she’d rather do it before she was properly awake. Who made supplements that were drinkable, though? Silas was weird. “If that wouldn’t be an inconvenience." 

“Never, Miss Hollis.” Mattie smiled, blandly, and Laura got the distinct impression that Laura would never be _allowed_ to be an inconvenience. Laura wished she could grab for her water without looking panicky and suspicious. “That will be all, then. Unless you have any questions?” 

“Yes.” Laura straightened her shoulders, summoning her inner journalist and tossing her freaked out patient out the metaphorical back door. “How much longer will I be expected to stay at the hospital? It’s just that I’d love to head back to my dad’s-”

“Until you’re fully healed, of course.” Mattie’s eyes flashed, the danger that had been lurking behind them the whole time taking a step forward. Laura’s breath caught in her chest, her recalcitrant heart picking that moment to give an extra unsteady throb. “Silas, you’ll find, is quite… _thorough_. We wouldn’t want you experiencing any difficulties without access to support.”

Easier to drag you to the morgue from close up, Laura thought, and wished she hadn’t. “What exactly is fully healed?” Laura only managed to refrain from air quotes by clasping her hands in her lap. Air quotes weren’t a professional journalistic thing to do. And no matter what was happening to her head and her hearing, that was what she was here for. She couldn’t forget it. Girls were counting on her. “I’ve already had my bandages removed and been cleared for showers.”

Not that she’d taken one. Shampoo and conditioner had been another victim of Laura’s terrible planning. At least her hair hadn’t become too unmanageable yet. She’d have to try and figure that out sooner rather than later. That was becoming a motto for her stay at Silas’s hospital. Laura needed to get a handle on a lot of things, and it was never good to leave things hanging too long. 

“We will let you know, Miss Hollis. And…” The danger in Mattie’s eyes hadn’t abated. Even in a dress, her hip cocked, ostensibly delicate as can be, Mattie looked forged from iron. “I wouldn’t attempt to leave before then. You’ll find that Silas has rather strict policies regarding patient sign outs. For your protection, of course.”

“Protection,” Laura said. This time, she managed to say it how she meant to. Self preservation, mostly. She didn’t get the feeling this doctor held very tightly to her hippocratic oath. “Of course. I definitely want to make sure everything goes well. I like my ear.”

Mattie smiled, her teeth gleaming. “I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement. I’ll arrange to have the supplement sent down with your breakfast.” The pause was barely noticeable. “It’s something you have to drink quickly. It’s funny like that, loses effectiveness when exposed to the air for too long. You’ll crack the lid and choke it down, won’t you, poppet?”

Laura smiled right back, her lips tight. The room around her had never felt less hers. For whatever reason, she wished Carmilla was with her. She’d be able to explain some of what Laura was learning. Or react to it, at least. It would be great if Laura had something to base her reactions on. Mattie was a blank slate, and purposefully so. Unnerving. “You’re the doctor.”

“Excellent.” Mattie brushed off her hands, shifting her weight again so she was standing straight. Though she wasn’t particularly tall, she seemed to tower over Laura. “I’ll be seeing you around then, Miss Hollis.” 

Mattie swept out the door, steps slow and languid. She moved like Carmilla, nearly, but with a varnish of carelessness the other girl had never achieved. Carmilla cared too much about the things around her -- Mattie cared not at all. She left the door open.

Laura ran a finger over the budding scar tissue, testing at the numbness for herself. It was time to start finding things out for herself. There was far more to Silas than Laura had expected, and right now? It was her responsibility to reveal it to the world. 

Step one? Find Carmilla. She knew way, way more than she wanted to let on. It was high time for Laura to learn the truth about the miracle ear and the missing girls.

 

* * *

 

Laura had _meant_ to find her new friend, but not so immediately. She had grand plans — to shake the proof of evildoing in Carmilla’s face, and maybe follow it up with a _so there_ or two. 

But there was a slight snarl in her plan. Carmilla. Again. 

“Cupcake,” Carmilla said, her eyes almost wild. In the half hour or so since Laura had left to have the weirdest doctor’s appointment of her life, Carmilla had acquired an amazing amount of dishevelment. Her leather jacket had been cast aside, dangling by one arm from one of the drawer handles. At least half of the drawers in the room were some kind of open. “What did I _just_ say.” 

Laura closed the door behind her, quietly as possible. After her meeting with Mattie, she didn’t like the idea of being caught somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be, even more than before. “You said to get back to my room for my appointment. My appointment has been appointed. I’ve been cleared for… well, nothing, but apparently I’m on track.” Laura made a face. Something about Mattie’s dark eyes was pressing into her, even after the woman was long gone. Her fingers found her wrist again, and she tried not to start worrying about her heart rate again. “Aside from some weird supplement. She didn’t say what it was, only that I’d be starting it tomorrow."

“Nameless supplement, huh.” Carmilla ran her finger along the edges of one of the drawers, drawing a creaking grumble from its depths. She stared at the tip of her finger like she expected it to be bloodied. “Does that sound like regular hospital practice to you?”

“Um,” Laura said. “Duh. No. Which is why I’m _here_.”

Carmilla quirked an eyebrow. “Bothering me?”

Laura felt the jump in her heart rate, and dropped her hands to her sides. That was enough self discovery for one day, thanks. “Looking at the files!” 

Carmilla’s eyebrow only tilted more, something wicked dancing around the lines of her face. It looked better on her then the fright she’d worn when Laura busted in. How was she supposed to know that Carmilla would still be hanging around, okay? After that whole speech about the file room being a bad place to be found, Laura figured she would have cleared out by now. “Last time I checked, the files weren’t in my cleavage, cutie.” 

“I’m not- Ugh!” Laura detached her eyes from Carmilla, with some effort. She scanned the small filing room again, like she’d find something new. Not much had moved in the time since she’d gone to meet with doctor doom, but a few new folders were piled on the desk. “Did you find any interesting files, then?”

“No.”

Laura sighed. For a while, she’d been convinced that she’d been getting somewhere. Did Carmilla reset if you left her alone too long? The tenderness, the ancient gaze, the disregard for personal space… all of it was gone. Not that Laura was missing having her personal space invaded. Because she liked her personal space bubble. “Really? After missing girls, your cryptic ‘thing’,” Laura imitated Carmilla’s tone as best she could, “that ‘doesn’t matter’ even if it’s been surgically inserted in my head? You’re going to say there’s not even a complaint from the nurses about weird noises in the night?"

Carmilla rolled her drawer shut, and made her way around the bank of filing cabinets. They rattled their displeasure at their abandonment. Laura hadn’t been able to see Carmilla’s new top until now, other than her bare shoulders. Laura had been trying not to notice the bare shoulders, but without the filing cabinets in the way, the whole room seemed to be peering in Carmilla’s direction.

It was a corset. Of course it was a corset. That was what everyone wore to their positions at the hospital. Forget all the creepy medical practices and as-of-yet unexplained surgery — Carmilla in a corset was the real torture here.

“I mean that there’s _nothing._ ” Carmilla perched on the edge of the desk, her leather-clad legs extended in front of her. If there was a safe place to stare in the room, Laura couldn’t find it. This was torture. “The records of the missing girls? Gone. They should still be here, or some sort of marker of their removal should exist.”

If it had been Laf, Laura would have squealed and said something like _finally, intrigue_. As it was, she grinned wide enough her face ached. “So something’s up?”

Carmilla fixed Laura with an unimpressed look and crossed her legs. It was like she was _trying_ to get Laura to stare at her. “Was the creepy supplement not enough for you?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Laura rolled her shoulders back, trying to shake some of the tension off. Mattie had heaped a lot of it on her. Now that she had an ally, all the stress of the past couple days had decided to come sneaking up behind her. It was less than helpful. “What is the supplement, then? If you’re a proper nurse.”

Carmilla snorted, her fingers drumming by her sides. Laura liked seeing Carmilla in motion. That always meant much better news than a still one. “For the fifth time, creampuff, I’m not a nurse. Just a humble passerby.”

“That lives in the hospital?”

Carmilla leant back on her palms, languid as a panther. All she needed was a pool of sunlight and she’d be the image of a big cat — pretty and predatory. “Hey, I’m willing to help you. Do you really want to look this gift horse in the mouth?”

Laura realized she’d been staring at Carmilla’s lips, and averted her eyes. It was just habit. She was used to lipreading, after so many years with an ear about as useful as Silas’s explanation of what, exactly, they had done to her hearing when she was under. She was still waiting for her ear to do something more interesting than hiss and crackle. “So you’re going to help me?”

Laura had been watching for it, so she saw it. The motion flowing through Carmilla stilled, in the way Laura was coming to learn meant something was wrong. She couldn’t place it, exactly. Carmilla wasn’t always in motion, that wasn’t it. She just always seemed to have an air of observation, of something old and wise peering out. When she changed, when something confronted her she didn’t want to see, that watchfulness about her turned in on itself. “It won’t help you. It won’t change anything.”

Laura, carefully, sat on the desk next to Carmilla. There was definitely a pen buried beneath the paper somewhere, but it wasn’t uncomfortable enough to make her give up her position. “Does it have to?” A pause, and she nudged Carmilla’s shoulder with hers. “And I will. I can’t have been the first person to try and figure out what’s going on here. Natalie disappeared what, a year ago? Second time’s the charm. Or third.”

Carmilla sighed, but didn’t shift away. They both looked at Carmilla’s boots, sensibly small heels and unsensible stiff leather. Laura wished she could reach that level of beautiful contradiction. “You realize that anyone else that looked into this would have had to disappear for you to get your lucky third chance.” The word _lucky_ dripped with disdain. “I’ve been looking around anyway, and haven’t found a thing. You being here doesn’t change anything.”

Laura ran her hands down her thighs, and leant forwards to rest her weight forwards on the desk. The pen dug in, but she barely felt it. Carmilla’s hand was close to hers, close enough that the distance between them felt electric. "Even you’ve got to believe that things turn out for the better sometimes.”

Carmilla snorted. “Right.”

“Really.” Laura nudged her hand the rest of the way. Carmilla didn’t move away, and Laura’s stomach swooped. She would have believed all the air had left the room if not for the utter stillness of the scattered paper. “I’ll _make_ it turn out better, then. Do you believe I’m stubborn enough?”

Carmilla’s lips twisted. “Laura-“

“Do you?” Laura wanted to joke, something about a german nurse and being patient with a patient, but this was something she meant. Now wasn’t a time to babble on until her point got lost in a flurry of meaningless words. “Carm?"

Another airless pause. A gurney creaked by in the hallway, but Laura didn’t even twitch. If a janitor caught them at it, so be it. She had a plan stolen straight from every single ridiculous story she’d ever read. It couldn’t go wrong. Another moment, and Carmilla sighed. “If I say yes, will you stop trying to cheer me up? It’s making me queasy.” 

“Oh sure, go for the throat.” Laura patted Carmilla’s hand, and let go before her fingers got any unauthorized ideas. “So. What’s your plan? What do you know?"

Carmilla hummed, a deep, lovely sound. It sounded… three dimensional? That wasn’t quite right, but it was close. Something about Carmilla always sounded rich and deep, like Laura’s brain had an affinity for pretty girls. It usually did, but Carmilla’s voice was taking it to the next level. “Pay attention to the supplement, to start off with.”

“Why? Are they poisoning me?” The pause of consideration was long enough that Laura’s jaw dropped. “Okay, I was joking. Are they _actually_ going to poison me with a creepy, not FDA approved supplement?”

“Too many documentaries, Lois Lane. The FDA is American.” Carmilla tapped her fingers against the desk, a good sign. Laura was collecting those things about her new partner in crime. Movement: good. The little smile that played over her face: _very_ good. “It’s not…”

“You know,” Laura said, and kicked a heel against the desk with more force than she intended to. The clang rattled off the filing cabinets, everything in the rusty room ringing with it. “It only makes me more freaked out when you’re going the whole mysterious beautiful lady route, right? It’s not reassuring. It’s _really_ not reassuring."

Carmilla grabbed her hand, the shock enough to silence Laura. “Shh!”

Laura had watched enough movies to know when to shut up. Still, it was harder than it looked. Something was moving in the hallway outside. Some _one._

The janitor. How was she more prepared for sneaking around when she was high as a kite? There had to be rules against this sort of thing, even if this sort of thing was just her poor planning. She was going to be an investigative journalist, dammit. She needed to be better at this.

Carmilla’s fingers gripped uncomfortably tight. It was almost enough to distract Laura from the fact that Carmilla was holding her hand at all. “Plan?”

“I thought that was your job!” Laura hissed, but the panic in Carmilla’s eyes was enough to snap her brain back into place. She had prepared for this, actually. It was just really, really awkward. “Sorry. I'm just gonna-“

The doorknob twisted, and they were out of time. Laura twisted herself up and around, ignoring the pang in her still-wounded head, and hiked herself up onto Carmilla’s lap. She’d taken the angles at the door before she came in, she knew what to do. How much she would have to do to look like she was doing something entirely different.

Ducking low over Carmilla, she shoved the other girl back onto her elbows, ignoring the door beginning to creak open behind her. It _had_ to be uncomfortable for Carmilla, with the way her breath caught in throat. Laura’s hair fell like a curtain between them, blocking the fact their faces were still a few scant inches apart from the janitor at the door. Laura’s arm, braced against Carmilla’s side, burned where it touched skin bared by the corset.

“What are you doing in- oh.”

Laura couldn’t tell if it was surprise or put-upon exasperation in the janitor’s voice. Her ears, already awful, were scrambled by Carmilla’s lips, so close to hers. She had to have been barely breathing — her breath wasn’t brushing against Laura’s lips.

Carmilla’s hand slid up in Laura’s hair, and with sudden quickness, clamped a palm down over Laura’s good ear. It was careful, like most things about Carmilla were, to not jolt Laura’s head and put her in any more pain. “Sorry.” Laura’s voice echoed in her head, eerie. “We were just. Uh.”

All the blood that hadn’t decided to form a giant unhelpful scab on her head flooded to her cheeks. She was surprised she wasn’t catching Carmilla on fire with the pure heat of her embarrassment. Her legs, pressed against Laura’s, were enough of a spark to ignite her. Sometimes spying was a lot to deal with. 

The janitor said something disparaging, or so Laura guessed. With Carmilla’s hand clamped tight over her ear, she couldn’t make out more than the irritated tone that seeped between Carmilla’s fingers.

“Shh,” Carmilla whispered, still immobile. Only her other hand moved, stroking lightly at the fabric over Laura’s hip. Laura’s heart dropped in her chest like it had fainted off the top of a mountain. Carmilla half-smiled, her face cast golden in the light filtering through Laura’s hair. “Apologies,” she told the janitor, or possibly Laura’s heart. It didn’t need any more reasons to stop beating. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

The janitor must’ve said something else, and then the door slammed closed. Carmilla sat up, slowly, Laura still tangled in her legs. She hadn’t let go of Laura’s ear yet, but her other hand drifted up to land on Laura’s shoulder. Even the smallest contact was enough to keep the flush on Laura’s face. “We’ll need to clear out before they get suspicious, cupcake. Quick thinking.” Her eyes glittered. “Straight up genius.”

“I’m not straight and we both know it.” Feebly, Laura batted at Carmilla’s grip on her head. “Is there… a reason? Why you’re grabbing my ear? Have we gone full Star Trek ear grabbing? Deep Space Nine _is_ the best one, if we’re going there.”

Carmilla’s smiled broadened for a half second, then faded. Her voice dipped even deeper, velvet on Laura’s ears. “So you’re not noticing anything strange?"

“Am I supposed to be?” Laura dropped her hands to her sides and let them pretend they were dead. That was for the best. She didn’t want to get grabby. That was a bad idea. That was a very bad idea. “You sound great? Are we fishing for-“

The words fell out of her mouth and clattered to the floor.

“Oh,” Carmilla filled in, and brought her other hand up to touch at the healing scar behind Laura’s ear. Her touch was painstaking, gentle, and the stinging pain Laura was expecting didn’t happen. Carmilla traced the scar, catching at the end before taking her hands away. “So you finally noticed. I do like being able to talk to you easily, buttercup, but I’m surprised it took you this long to notice why.”

Again, like with the dust, Carmilla examined the tips of her fingers. Laura took a step back, her hands feeling for her ear again. She’d _thought_ it was healed up by now. The doctor had said it was. What was Carmilla doing? “I’ve been… distracted.”

Carmilla laughed, the sound echoing impossibly. “Apparently.”

“Carmilla.” No response. Carmilla moved to wipe her hand off on her leather pants, but Laura caught at her wrist. “Carm. What’s on your hand?”

Carmilla didn’t make to tug away, but there was tension in her arm like she wanted to. If Laura’s hand had been in the right place, she would’ve bet Carmilla’s pulse was racing. “Do you really want to know?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Laura gestured around the filing room. According to Carmilla, she was risking her life to be in here and she had come twice. “We _just_ had this conversation, okay? Lets not go through it again.” 

Carmilla sighed, then let Laura tug her hand into the light. Laura thought the substance on her fingers was blood at first, but then Carmilla shifted it to catch the light. It wasn’t red, or purple, or blue, or any of colours Laura would have associated with the circulatory system in a textbook. It was a deep, thick black, clinging to the ridges of Carmilla’s fingerprint with a tenacity. Whatever it was, it wasn’t natural. Just looking at it made Laura’s head ache all over again. “You wanted to know.”

“What _is_ -“ Laura and Carmilla both jolted at the same time, their heads cocking. Laura shook her head minutely, trying to shake the sudden staticked burst of tinnitus out of her ear. That wasn’t something she was looking forwards to as a side effect to the mystery surgery. Stupid shady Silas surgery and derailing her investigation. “Carm?”

The other girl’s head was still turned, her fists clenched, like she was listening. Another moment, and _whatever_ it was let go. Carmilla blinked at Laura, lost for a moment. Then she groaned. “I have to go. As much as I love my enigmatic reputation, that really isn’t why I have to leave you right now. I’ve got a call.” 

“On what phone?” Laura knew she sounded dumb. She knew. Today had been a lot, okay? The whole creepy ear thing had been a lot to internalize.

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re a little beyond that, cupcake.” Carmilla tapped her network of scars, like that was an answer. “I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up.”

“Carm!” 

Carmilla gave Laura a jaunty half-wave, and disappeared out the door. Without having given Laura all of her answers. Again.

Laura fingered at her ear again, listening to Carmilla’s footsteps fade away. With her bad ear. The one that was completely and utterly certifiably stone cold deaf.

 

* * *

 

Laura didn’t know how Carmilla had known about her hearing. That was what followed her, through her oddly dreamless sleep and into the fresh morning.

Half-images poked at her while she poked through her breakfast. Laura was sure she hadn’t dreamed, but somehow, her brain wasn’t convinced. It also wasn’t particularly inventive — it conjured darkness, danger, and ditch. The ditch was the most abstract part of her dream, though Laura was only giving partial credit. If she was trying to tell herself that Silas was a dangerous place to be, she was a couple years too late.

Today was check out day. Even an experimental surgery didn’t warrant observation for this long. Laura felt like a failure for not getting very far on her search for the girls, but at least she’d found Carmilla. 

Plus, Carmilla had agreed to work with her. That was amazing. She had an inside source, and a super cooperative and super pretty one at that. Because she definitely wanted someone who looked good in the picture for the victory article she was going to write. Victory articles needed something to catch the article so that they could get read and their victory properly appreciated, right?

Laura was well aware she was running out of excuses, but whatever. The important part here was that she’d gotten way, way further in her investigation than could be reasonably expected for her post-surgery state. She had leads now. And bonus, it almost seemed like she had a working ear. An ear that worked for Carmilla, anyway.

Laura still had no idea how that worked. Silas has the whole homecoming goat sacrifice thing and all, and the glee club admittedly did look like a half-hearted zombie apocalypse, but magic? Magic that restored her hearing? That seemed like too much of a stretch, even for her.

Or maybe not. She’d have to talk to Carmilla about it. Laura was hoping to catch the other girl on her way out — in all the drama and hiding in closets and being on too many pain meds, she’d forgotten to get her number. Or email. Or any way whatsoever to contact her that didn’t involve pure dumb luck.

“Supplement, dear?”

Laura started and stared up at the nurse. She was offering Laura a bottle, the kind with a narrow neck that Laura half-expected to see a yogurt label on. “Oh, right. Thanks!”

The supplement almost seemed warm to the touch. Which was… weird. Not the weirdest thing at the hospital, but weird. Laura stared at her already-packed bag, like it would be able to give her advice. “Drink some of it, right?” she asked it. “Because it’s been prescribed by a hospital? And save a little of it for Laf to analyze?”

Unsurprisingly, the bag didn’t respond. Laura nodded. “You’re right. That’s a great plan.”

It was easy to unscrew the lid — unlike a yogurt bottle, there wasn’t an industrial level plastic seal around the rim. Whatever was in the bottle smelled nearly sweet, but not flowery or like any sort of chemical. If possible, Laura would have called it… natural smelling? But in a good way.

“Here goes,” she told her bag, still silent, and brought the bottle to her lips. It hit her tongue fast, thicker than water but not with the same fullness she’d have expected from a smoothie. It tasted of a thousand things — sugar and earth before a rain and the bitterness of trout lilies fresh in the spring. Laura tipped her head back, draining the bottle as fast as she could.

When nothing more could be shaken out of the container, Laura licked her lips, frustration tightening her shoulders. Whatever that was she wanted _more_. Her heart hummed in her chest, the frightening stumbling it had been doing for days forgotten. She felt good, more than she had since she’d gone in for her operation in the first place.

And then she remembered herself. “Shit!” Laura smacked the bottom of the bottle, but she’d been too enthusiastic. There wasn’t even a proper drop left in the bottle. Just a hint of warmth, which was suddenly even creepier than it had been before she drank it.

Even with all that, though, Laura wanted more. She hadn’t been like that with morphine, with any of the other possibly-addictive things she’d been put on, but immediately… Okay. That was going on the creepy list. But first: it was time to get the hell out of here.

Laura peeked into every room on her way out, half looking for Carmilla, and half hoping she’d run into something shady and underground that would give her an even better lead. Unfortunately, the most interesting thing around was another girl Laura’s age, conked out on her hospital bed. Seriously, were they even trying to run this hospital like a normal hospital? The records room had been weirdly placed and misfiled, but there were barely any patients hanging around. Laura knew she’d seen a couple of them when she was still stoned out of her mind, but not today. Everyone had vanished.

Typical. It was almost like Silas _didn’t_ want her exposing all of its secrets.

The nurse at the desk seemed distracted, but that was a given. Silas had awesome creepy aesthetics, but subpar organization. Laura plopped her carry on bag on the top of the desk in the meantime, strands of pain weaving in and out of her head. She blamed it on the bag. Though she wasn’t actually carrying it on her head, the weight of it was pulling at most of the muscles she owned, and some she was sure were just on loan from someone who wanted to cause her pain.

Next time, she’d have to absolutely forbid Laf from packing her laptop. The charger _never_ worked anywhere but that one outlet at home that had a wire loose inside, and it wasn’t exactly new enough to have heard of high tech concepts like ‘holding a charge’. “Hey! I’m here to check out. Totally ready. Got my signing hand all stretched out and everything."

“Uh huh,” the nurse said into the phone, and then blinked up at Laura. She angled the phone away from her mouth, like whatever she was about to say to Laura was too much to inflict on the person at the other end. “Sorry, what?”

“I’m ready to check out,” Laura repeated. She patted her overnight bag. It dented. “I was here for the hearing clinic, but the surgery went well and I’m through my observational period.” She tried to massage out the dent. Her bag refused. “So, do I need to just sign a chart? Or is there a form?"

The nurse squinted at her for a moment, then returned the phone to its original position. “Hang on a moment.” She put it down, still staring at Laura like she’d said she wanted to stab someone. “You can’t check out."

Laura’s traitor heart skipped a beat. She swallowed hard, willing it to continue on it’s regularly scheduled beating. “Sorry?”

The nurse smiled placidly, and gestured to the corner of a violently yellow piece of paper sticking out from underneath Laura’s bag. “They’ve just been putting them up, sorry if you missed them. But no, you can’t check out.” She smiled again, with a sort of look that looked snagged right from a catalog of non-threatening medical supplies. “Here, budge this up.”

Laura dragged her bag off the top of the desk and placed it on the floor, where she would probably step on it and break her laptop. The yellow was even more of an eyesore now that she could see a full sheet of it, and it was somehow distracting enough that she didn’t even notice the words for a long moment.

QUARANTINE, it spelled out. It was in all caps. Underneath, in even larger letters, it read: Q U A R A N T I N E. Other than the obvious, it didn’t offer an explanation. 

Laura had researched the hospital before coming here, of course she had. Styria wasn’t a country prone to outbreaks. The most recent shutdown of the place had been twenty years ago, and that had only lasted for about a week before they got the disease under control. 

There was something very, very suspicious about the timing. 

“Um." 

“It’s policy.” The nurse picked up her phone again, and pressed it back to her ear without even checking to see if Laura had any more questions. “Yeah, like I said. Uh huh. Yeah.” 

“Excuse me.” Laura was trying to be polite, she really was. It was just that she was feeling a little trapped. Now that they had been pointed out, Laura could see the signs everywhere, like warning signs. _Check out earlier, Hollis_ , they seemed to say. _Didn’t your father tell you this would happen in this kind of backwater hospital?_ “Excuse me? Can you tell me what, exactly, is being quarantined?”

A sigh. The nurse glared at Laura, like she couldn't believe she had the nerve to ask what was wrong. It was only a potentially deadly disease, right? “Some kind of contamination. Virus. Or bacteria.” Her smile was failing at the edges, irritation creeping over the placid facade. “Germs. It’s policy. You should head back to your room. The government’ll get it sorted out in no time.”

Laura snorted. Like the government had sorted out the complaints about dozens of missing girls in this area? “What exactly does ‘no time’,” air quotes, “mean? A day? A week? A month?”

The nurse glared. “Please don’t get belligerent, or we’ll have to call security. Yelling can aggravate some of the more-”

Laura scowled, ignoring the pain stabbing at the edges of her face. It was worth it. “No, _you_ can stop yelling, I’m just-“

“Are you causing trouble, cupcake?”

Laura whirled, her head screeching all over again, but she knew something was wrong before she’d fully turned. Something was lacking from Carmilla’s voice. The mischief that had lingered in it earlier had vanished, replaced with something dry and passionless. “Carm?"

The nurse huffed, a sort of irritation Laura was used to being on the receiving end of. She’d jammed the phone between her shoulder and her cheek, and Laura spitefully hoped she’d get an impression of the keys stuck to her face. “Are you here to deal with her?”

Carmilla shrugged, leaning against the corner. Her ease was forced, Laura could tell that much. She just didn’t know why. Carmilla had been fine yesterday! “Sure.”

Laura’s scowl deepened until it really, really wasn’t worth it anymore. She settled for crossing her arms tightly across her chest, ignoring her bag’s unwieldy strap. “I don’t need to be dealt with, Carmilla.”

“Whatever you say, cutie. I thought you had a question or two to ask me?” Carmilla said it like she meant something with not a lot of clothing, which was horrifyingly easy to imagine. Laura wanted to set her brain on fire. In a good way? It just wasn’t the time! “If you come with me, I’ll try to answer them."

“Or two?” Laura hurried after her, her luggage banging against her leg with enough force to send her lurching to the side with each step. “How about five? Ten? Maybe a dozen? You said all this- this- stuff! And then you just ran off!”

“I told you, I got a call.” Carmilla’s words came out clipped, and her pace was as quick as her temper. She stalked down the halls of the hospital like she had a personal grudge against the flooring tiles.

Laura ignored that. “And now I’m quarantined! Mystery virus quarantined because apparently I really am in a bad novel. Or a TV show. Probably as the girl who dies in the first five minutes."

Carmilla finally slowed, and Laura realized they’d reached her room. Good old 307. Instead of the semi-comforting haven it had been for the last few days, the room looked sinister. It would have been an exaggeration to say that the walls were closing in around Laura, but they certainly didn’t feel as far apart as they had yesterday.  Carmilla pushed the door open, gesturing Laura inside. “You’ve got much too interesting a backstory to die so fast, cupcake." 

Reluctantly, Laura stepped past Carmilla, setting her bags back down on the bed. She sat, too, the pain up and down her back. It liked to migrate when she aggravated it. “That makes it sound like I’m going to die slow! That’s not a good thing!"

Carmilla closed the door after herself, and leant back against it. Light shone out from around her hair through the tiny window set in the door. “You said you had questions? Well, here’s the answer for the one I know you’ve been dying to ask.” Her voice dripped with irony. "I’m a vampire.”

Laura scoffed. “An _actual_ answer, Carmilla.”

Carmilla gave her an exhausted look. Whatever patience she’d had was draining away, and fast. Why had she come to rescue Laura from the nurse if she was so tired? “Cover your ears.”

Laura squinted at her. “Why?”

“Just trust me.” Carmilla’s eyes bored into her. She seemed desperate for just that thing — trust. And whatever her reservations, trust was something Laura could give.

“You make that hard, Broody Mc…Vampire.” But Laura plugged her ears, careful as she could. It hurt, but honestly everything did. Dumb ear and not healing immediately. She wanted to file some sort of complaint to the hospital for not fulfilling her unrealistic expectations. “Now what?"

“Now I prove it,” Carmilla said, and Laura heard every word. Even stone cold deaf, she heard her. Just like the day before. She hadn’t been imagining it, then. Or anything else that she’d tried to justify the fact that apparently Carmilla had the cheat codes for her senses.

Laura’s hands dropped. “What.” Carmilla made as if to explain, but Laura held up a hand. “Wait. I’m just gonna rearrange myself. This feels like a long conversation and my head is killing me.”

Carmilla raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. Whatever else was going on with her life, it wasn’t interfering with her makeup routine. Maybe she just didn’t sweat? Did vampires sweat? This was a whole new line of questioning Laura was having to get into. “Literally or figuratively, cupcake?”

“Well, you haven’t actually explained anything, so how am I supposed to know?” Laura spread one of the blankets across her lap, and settled in. “That was your cue. Fire away!"

Carmilla tested the handle of the door — which was satisfactorily locked — and then sauntered over to the chair. Now that they were alone and secure, some of the air of discontent about her had begun to dissipate. “Moth- Lilita Morgan, the Dean… she’s been running experiments. I don’t know what she is, but she’s powerful. Powerful enough to raise me, back when dresses still went to the ankle. It was… messier, back then."

“The nerve cavity,” Laura whispered.

Carmilla’s smile was humourless. “Of course. Vampirism didn’t have a very good success rate, back in the day. It was always ideal to get living victims and let the magic convert them slowly, but I was an exception. I was murdered at the ball for my eighteenth birthday, and Mother was kind enough to shove a sizeable portion of magic into my corpse. Enough to revive me, as you can see.”

Laura was starting to feel vaguely sick. The journalist’s dilemma — all the answers, none that she’d wanted. Her eyelids dragged, and she scrubbed a hand across her face. “Mother?”

Carmilla offered an expression Laura was familiar with: discomfort mixed with barely quashed pain. “She likes that. Better than Dean, at least. She always likes titles that ring of control, but Mother is the best of all.” Carmilla ran a hypnotizing hand down her leg, back in jeans once more. Laura missed the leather pants. "It means she created me, from the bottom up. She manufactured the things I can do, and as her child, I need to be grateful for it. And serve her, of course.”

That wasn’t what family was. Laura’s heart fluttered in her chest, either in pain or in sympathy. Without turning away from Carmilla, Laura scrabbled for her bottle of painkillers, and swallowed one dry. The german nurse or… whatever in Carmilla, looked irritated, but it passed. Laura could taste something metallic on her tongue, and it wasn’t the drugs. “That’s horrible.”

Carmilla’s fingers stalled for a long moment, teasing at a tiny hole by her knee. For all she claimed to be from another era, she looked achingly modern and young. “And painful. But it is what it is. I can’t unmake myself, can I?”

Laura sat up, planting a hand on the scratchy blanket to steady her swirling head. They were winding down her prescription, but she was still narcotic-naive enough that morphine was still a kick. “Well, maybe if we knew more about-“

Carmilla’s voice was sharp. “Laura. Don’t.”

“Fine.” Laura sat back, regretting every movement she’d made that day. Maybe the hospital was right to keep her here. Apparently magical medical procedures were harmful to the health. "What does that mean for me, then? Am I turning into a vampire?” It felt stupid to say it. “Is that why I can hear you, and nothing else? Some kind of connecting magic?”

Laura had just been spouting off the first ideas her spinning mind had slotted together, but Carmilla nodded. “Exactly. I don’t know how much longer you have until you make the full transition. They’re not going to let you leave, you know that. This quarantine happens every time Mother swoops in to take another selection of girls."

Laura took a shaky breath. “I should have _known_ those reports were shady. I mean, what hospital is so bad at healing people that they lose them? People don’t just vanish!”

“They do here.” Carmilla near smiled, which was a sight to see.

“Thanks, I feel so much better.” Laura picked at the seam of her shirt. She’d been _so close_. She’d liked wearing her normal clothes again, being able to stand up without keeling over in a toxic mix of vertigo, painkillers, or both. She had been ready to go home and wash her hair. Now this. “So what’s the plan, then?”

“Plan? What kind of plan could we have, cupcake?” In between blinks, Laura’s tired eyes blurred Carmilla into the wall of the hospital room, like they were trying to make a point about how trapped the other girl felt. "You’re going to turn into a vampire, your heart will stop, and you’ll never be able to go back to society. The best you can hope for is running, and hoping you can figure out a life far, far away from here.”

Laura snatched the blanket out of her lap and balled it up to throw at Carmilla. The vampire caught it, easily, but Laura just gathered another to throw and kept at it. She had enough to keep this up for a while — she got cold at night, okay? “I can see how you’d think that? But no.”

“What’s your brilliant idea then, cutie?” Carmilla’s words turned mocking, and she leapt to her feet, tossing the blankets back to her chair. Her unsettled mood was even more obvious as she moved, prowling from one end of the room to the other like a restless cat. "Complain my mother to death?”

“No. I’m going to figure her out.” Laura had run out of physical things to throw. Instead, she upped her voice, until even her deaf ears could tell she was shouting. "What she wants, how she’s going to go after it.” She softened her voice, patting the empty space on the bed beside her legs. "C’mon Carm, it’s basic journalism! If you figure someone out, you can figure out how to stop them.”

Carmilla didn’t seem to notice her invitation to the bed, but stopped anyway to slam her hand against the wall. The plaster crumbled slightly under her palm, and Laura jumped. Carmilla’s voice burned. “Stop someone who has enough magic power to transform you into an undead creature against your will? Yeah, that’ll go well.”

Laura frowned at her. “What exactly are you so afraid of?”

“Her!” Finally, Carmilla took a seat on the hospital bed. Because of the bed’s high angle, she was well within Laura’s reach, but Laura didn’t want to risk it. Even in her distress, though, Carmilla hadn’t jarred the bed any more than was unavoidable. "Don’t you understand? She tore me apart! She’s killed god knows how many people without blinking an eye. You can’t take her down!”

“I can’t know until I try!” Laura swallowed hard, and lowered her voice as much as she could bear. Wheels creaked outside of her door, deafening in the silence between them. “Carmilla, I have to try."

Carmilla ducked her head, leaning forward on her hands. Laura could feel the tension in her vibrating through the thin mattress, the tension in the sheets. “I’ve tried! I got locked in a coffin of blood for a half century for my troubles. I’m not that stupid to try it again.”

Laura’s restraint broke. She reached for Carmilla, settling a hand right next to hers. To take, or to leave. “Then why are you here?”

Carmilla stared at Laura’s hand like it was a foreign thing. “Because— I don’t know."

“Then I think you should figure it out. I’m not going to give up.” Laura's eyelids drooped again. Maybe it was the painkillers. Were you supposed to take them with water? Did that affect them a lot? Carmilla had said to do that, an age ago. Laura pried them back open, staring down Carmilla with dogged determination. “I won’t give up on this. Hell, I won’t give up on you. It’s about time someone started looking out for you. Everyone deserves that.”

She would have said more, too, but her eyes dragged shut again. Whispers clawed up her spine and into her ears, their claws crackling at the inside of her skull. And for a moment there was static but then—

A voice rattled out from between her teeth, trapped in a smile that had Laura’s head locked in a vice. Laura opened her eyes, everything in the room falling into sharp relief. Carmilla, pale and confused, her hands still fisted in Laura’s sheets. Laura could hear each and every breath rasping in and out of her long-dead chest, pushing against the frozen, broken heart. “What an interesting place to find you, Mircalla, darling.”

Something swung Laura's feet off the bed and to the floor, her soles barely touching the tile. The sheets fell away like they couldn’t bear to touch her, and before she knew it, Laura was running careful fingertips along her own belongings like she’d never seen them before. She cocked her head, ignorant of the feeling of wetness starting to seep at her hairline. And the pain. It was pounding in from everywhere, like Laura was being crushed. Worn away, in the long deep dark.

She examined the dust on her fingers, days old. The cleaning service hadn’t been inside since she’d gotten back from the marvellous miracle that had been the surgery. What advances the humans made while she wasn’t looking!

Carmilla spoke from behind her, and Laura could hear her gritted teeth. What a poor, sad thing. “Let her go.”

“Of course.” Laura shook off her hand, the small bones in her wrist shifting oddly. She stared at the limb, a fragile curiosity. “She doesn’t suit my purposes yet. You can enjoy her for now.” The shadows bit at Laura’s insides, and abruptly released, the last words hissing away with an agenda of their own. “If you can— _catch_.”

And Laura crumpled, the half-moment of perfect hearing falling away, leaving a muffled ringing in its wake.

When she could finally open her eyes again, Laura found Carmilla staring down at her with a sick kind of fear in her eyes. Laura coughed, her heart stuttering back to life, and said, “I still vote for the investigation plan."

 

* * *

  
  
  
“I still think this is a bad idea.” 

“I thought this whole operation was a bad idea and I still did it.” Laura waved vaguely at the side of her head. She regretted it, a little. Carmilla’s operation had involved far less consent and included far less mind-fuzzing painkillers. Now that Laura was off them, she was beginning to appreciate the edge they had taken off her anxiety.

The vampire snorted. For someone who didn’t need to breathe, she sure like sighing at Laura. “This isn’t a competition.” 

“If it was, I could probably win.” She so, so wouldn’t, but trying not to argue with Carmilla was like trying not to breathe. She wasn’t quite that undead yet. "Overprotective father tends to mean acting out. Shh! We’re almost there."

“Regardless of experience—“ Carmilla held up a hand, forestalling any of Laura’s complaints, “—and you’re deluded if you think you can beat me with hundreds of years of experience, cutie, breaking into my mothers office is a horrible plan."

“Exactly!” It felt odd to be having a whispered argument while sneaking, but they weren’t currently in any danger. It was two in the morning, when everyone with a pulse was asleep. Besides Laura. But the pulse was apparently not a permanent thing. Wasn’t _that_ a cheerful thought! "They won’t be expecting it. And really, shh! Just for a moment. I need to listen-"

Carmilla took the moment to turn back to look at Laura, the picture of unimpressed. Her eyes glittered in the faint light of the upper-level hallways. She’d picked the lock in the elevator with a certain amount of glee. “You’re the deaf one.” Her head tilted to the side, the way Laura recognized meant she was listening with her vampire-extended senses. Once she was fully vamped, Laura would apparently gain super hearing about _everything_. She wasn’t sure if that was she wanted, but it was far too late to back out. “There’s nobody in there.”

“Fine. Be all… show-y off-y!” Laura switched her bag to her other shoulder, wincing. She still wasn’t used to working around a harmed body. Stupid slow healing. If she was a vampire in the making, she should be getting all the benefits, like not being an invalid. It sucked.

“That isn’t a real word, cutie,” Carmilla drawled, “but nice try.”

“Language is invented by people who use it.” Laura crossed her arms, the bag slipping down her arm yet again. She huffed. “So, do your super ears hear anything?”

“No,” Carmilla deadpanned. Laura could tell she was tempted to remind Laura that she’d already said that, but she had been generous lately. “Other than your racing heart. It has to be my scintillating presence.”

“Or the adrenaline rush of breaking into the office of a super evil super villain that turned me into a vampire! That is also a thing that would get my heart racing!” That, and whatever that supplement had been, it had evened out the changes happening to her. Laura still didn’t have the nerve to ask what it was. Tomorrow. She would ask tomorrow. “Okay. So you know what you’re doing once we get in there?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

Laura kicked Carmilla’s shoe, just hard enough that she’d notice. “Say it!”

“This is a bad time to realize I don’t know anything. Shouldn’t you have checked earlier?” She was just being difficult now, and she knew it. She had been worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as they walked, but now she was using it to stifle a grin. “Here. This office. This one’s hers."

“ _Carm_.” Laura leant against the door to watch Carmilla sink to her knees and start to work at the lock. She tried to drill her eyes into Carmilla’s back — maybe literally? Her life had taken an abrupt turn into a sordid fantasy novel. You just never knew.

“Fine.” Carmilla jiggled her tools, something that looked very different than the average movie. Laura had offered to get her hairpins, but apparently it was a good deal more complicated than that if you wanted it done well. Carmilla’s fingers were quick and practiced on the tools. "You go through her desk, and I go through her books, since I can read in the dark and faster than you can.” Carmilla was biting on her lip again, not that Laura was staring at her mouth or anything. “Because you’re incomplete. Happy?”

“Always,” Laura told her, and then scowled. “Incomplete? Really? I object to that.”

“It’s the truth, creampuff.” Carmilla jiggled the handle, then scowled at it and went back to working at the lock. Laura’s skin prickled with anxiety, but Carmilla didn’t seem bothered with their compromising position. "You’re only half magic as of yet. Human and vampire, cancelling each other out.”

“Are all the other missing girls like me?” The question spilled out of Laura before she could stop herself. It _was_ a fair question. “And what is she going to do with us?”

“I don’t know.” Carmilla’s voice was grim. “They all went through something similar to you, but Mother doesn’t often pull me in to deal with the patients.” The door clunked, an alarmed sort of noise, like it was getting away from Carmilla before she got properly angry. “Mattie always had far more contact with them than I did, but she’s already left the hospital on some mission or another and not exactly helpful, even if she was here."

“Ha! I knew you knew her!” Laura jumped forwards, pushing through the open doors before Carmilla picked herself up from her kneeling position. “You sounded- oh.”

Carmilla half-laughed from behind her. “Yeah."

Lilita Morgan’s office was as grand as Laura could have ever dreamed. Just stepping into the room meant stepping into a different realm, one with soft carpets instead of linoleum and ornate fixtures instead of sensible ones. Her heart slowed just stepping into the room, like it was too afraid it would spur her forwards to touch something and ruin it.

Laura touched the wall anyway, but her fingers came away bare. The wallpaper was half gilded, twisted into primeval shapes, ducking in and out of shadow. It seemed to shift as she watched, like it was watching her back.

“Careful, creampuff. We don’t have forever in here.” Carmilla’s words were soft, but Laura jumped anyway. The other girl had joined her in the room, sliding the door shut behind them. Carmilla didn’t seem nearly as impressed by the grandeur, but she had been here before. This kind of performative wealth wasn’t new to her. “Do _you_ know what you’re doing?”

Laura blinked twice, and then shook herself. She put her emptied bag down on the desk, brought along in case they found anything they needed to steal. Not that it seemed a particularly good idea to steal from Lilita, but Laura wanted the option. “Yes, Carmilla. Read fast, okay?”

“Of course.” Carmilla laid a hesitant hand on her shoulder, and squeezed. “I’m sorry you had to skip your party with your friends to come on this crazy mission. Even if it’s _your_ crazy mission."

“It was only going to be a driftwood bonfire,” Laura said glumly. Before everyone had gotten caught up in exams and investigations, they used to do that kind of event once a month. Now, it was just for special occasions. Oh well. It wasn’t like she’d have been able to make it anyway, not with the fake quarantine going on.She settled into the chair, careful not to push it away from the desk and leave a sign that she’d been there. “Everyone was going to be there.”

Carmilla flipped open the first book, having finished scanning the bookshelf for anything of note. Most of the things on the shelf apparently hadn’t passed muster — Laura wondered how many things on the shelves were only there for show. Who was meant to visit this office? “Parties should be a shimmering moment of possibility, not a collection of brutes around a piece of flaming driftwood.” Carmilla turned the page, and then another. “No offence to your friends, of course, but that giant hunk of man doesn’t particularly look like a good conversationalist."

“Kirsch is a perfectly lovely person,” Laura said with dignity. “But… you may be right. In some way.”

“I’m always right,” Carmilla told her. “Maybe you could come to a _proper_ party of mine someday, if this ever ends. Something where all we have to worry about is starshine and moonlight.” Her voice dipped into wistfulness, but her fingers didn’t slow on the pages of the book. She was nearly through it by now. “I can introduce you to the stars, weave you a new constellation or two. They may be only iridescent masses of fire eons away, but the hold they have on humanity is immortal.” Carmilla set the book back where it belonged, and picked up the next one. “Pretentious nonsense,” she said, when she caught Laura’s questioning look. “Anything yet?”

Laura yanked open the next drawer. So far all she’d found was a forest worth of stationary. And a pen that had something that _definitely_ wasn’t ink crusted around the nib. “Nothing that matters.”

“I really don’t think Mother would have kept anything obvious as we need around.” Carmilla buzzed through the second book, even faster this time. “Nonsense. But if this is what it will take to convince you it’s hopeless and to climb out the window, who am I to protest odd methods?”

“Ix-nay on the indow-way.” Laura tugged another drawer open, revealing a stack of empty folders. She pulled them out, laying them out flat against the desk. It never hurt to double check. “But seriously, thank you for doing this with me. I underestimated how much all of this would affect me and you’ve been… wonderful.”

Carmilla half laughed, switching to a new book. She addressed it, not Laura, and if her new evil ear hadn’t been precisely tuned to Carmilla, she wouldn’t have heard it. “God, what am I doing? Naive, provincial girl. Entirely too tightly wound. Such a cliché. I ought to know better.”

This time, Laura didn’t protest her words. It seemed too personal. She flipped open each of the manila files, one by one. Empty. Empty. Empty.

And then she struck gold. A sticky note, still fastened to the inside. “Yes!”

“What?”

Laura read it aloud, fast as she could decipher the archaic cursive. “We have near enough to get the bargaining started. Keep the ones in the lower levels quiet for a few more days. I don’t want to hear any more wailing through the pipes.” She smacked the sticky note back into place. ”That’s it! She’s keeping them in the lower levels of the hospital!”

“Also,” Carmilla said, her voice deader than her heart, “we can’t win.”

“What?” That was pessimistic, even for her. They were here for solutions! Things that would make that win even the slightest bit possible. They weren’t here for being grumpy about their odds. “What did you find?"

Carmilla turned the book over in her hands. It wasn’t written in any language Laura recognized, but that didn’t mean a lot. The binding was odd, though. Ancient. The kind that had fallen out of style a long, long time ago. “I’d seen this book before, but never read it. Mother forbade me.” A tight smile. “Since we were defying her, I thought I’d finally break that rule. And now I know why.” Carmilla ran her free hand through her hair, tousling it entirely out of place. Her hand settled by the side of her head. Laura was far too familiar with her own nervous, scar reaching gesture to ascribe it to anything else. “Laura, we can’t win. She’s a goddess.”

Laura blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Inanna. Sumerian. It all fits.” Carmilla dropped her hand with a violence, like she wanted to throw it from her body. “Goddess, Laura. We can’t beat that. That’s too much to be up against!”

“You said that when you thought she was just a garden variety vampire.” Laura started shoving things back in the desk. If Lilita was a goddess, this Inanna, who knew what kind of magical security measures she could have running? "Zero odds is still the same as zero odds. And I’m _still_ going to do this.”

Carmilla stared at the bookshelf, like she wanted it to suck her in. Then her shoulders slumped. “Oh, did I ever tell you I wanted to be a poet once?” Carmilla laughed, and Laura could hear the brimming tears in it. She didn’t seem to acknowledge Laura, or the argument they were having. Again. “I would love the things words could paint. I almost thought I could do it, for a while. But then again, I was never any good.”

“Whoever told you that didn’t know what they were talking about,” Laura said, and nearly guffawed. She closed the drawer, the files and the sticky note carefully bundled back into place. It was only when she straightened that she saw Carmilla, frozen. “Carm?”

“Nobody told me that.” Her eyes flickered away, lying. “I just know it. It’s true.”

“Carmilla,” Laura said softly. “You put stars in my eyes, in my mind. Don’t tell me that’s nothing. That’s not nothing.”

“Don’t be-“

“I’m not.” Laura made her way around the desk, her bag tucked in tight to her shoulder. A step and a match, as Carmilla failed to lean away. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you? But you’re enchanting. And definitely not in the ‘old crone who lives in a swamp’ kind of way. Which is the worst job description in fairy tales, honestly?” Laura steadied her breath. This wasn’t the time to ramble. “Enchanting. As in… you’ve enchanted me.”

“Laura, this isn’t the time for jokes.” Carmilla moved away, slamming the book in Sumerian back on the shelf. The whole bookshelf rattled with force of it. Carmilla didn’t seem to notice, her hand curled into a loose fist and her back firmly to Laura.

Laura stepped in again, unwilling to let her go. “I promise,” she said, low. “I’m not joking. Don’t you believe you can build things with your magic words?”

“Laura.” A statement. A demand. Carmilla didn’t turn to look at her.

Laura sighed, gently, and reached around Carmilla to grab the book and jam it into her duffel. If the ultimate date with evil was soon, then she wouldn’t be missing the book. “Believe in me, then. Can you do that?”

Carmilla turned to her, close enough that Laura could feel the electricity between their skin. Their hands brushed, and Carmilla caught hold. Up close, she was even more beautiful. The kind of beautiful that came with detail, in the way Laura could see the sweet depths of her eyes and her downturned eyelashes.

“I can do that,” Carmilla said, and Laura felt the vibration of her voice as if it was her own. Laura closed her eyes in relief, and it could have been her mind playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn that Carmilla pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Then Carmilla stepped away, releasing her hands, and Laura cleared her throat. “Okay. Anything else before we go?” It wasn’t likely they’d find anything more here, as much as Laura wanted to tear apart her whole office. They’d been through the desk, and Carmilla was the one who would know what books to look at. “Any secret weapons? Things that would kill a god?"

Carmilla let out a great, big sigh, the kind that would have winded a human entirely. The playfulness that had lingered in her earlier was gone. “Nothing we could touch.”

Laura felt a bit of hope light in her chest. “Aha! So there is something!”

“A sword, but _Laura_ -” Carmilla’s voice was warning, like she could read Laura’s racing thoughts, “that kind of thing comes with a cost.” Carmilla reached for her again, then seemed to think better of it. She glared instead, like that would be more convincing. “And we can’t touch it, anyway. Mother has it guarded against humans and vampires alike.”

It was maybe in the way Carmilla had said it, but Laura’s mind caught. “Wait, humans and vampires specifically?”

Carmilla nodded. “Unless you have a trained puppy in that bag of yours, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

“Nope, I’m not.” Laura dropped her bag, flexing out her fingers. Her heart was pounding again, a comfort. “You said it yourself. I’m incomplete. Not one or the other. Everything cancels out. Will this spell notice _nothing_?” Laura did a probably premature victory fistpump. “I’m Odysseus!”

Carmilla mulled that over. Her fingers rattled out a rhythm against her thigh, but when she looked up at Laura her eyes were bright again. “I think you could take it. She’d still notice it’s gone if she goes looking, but…”

“But we’re screwed anyway for being here and the book so who cares,” Laura finished. “Okay. Where is it? I’ve always wanted a sword!

 

* * *

 

The sword was heavy.

Laura shouldn’t have been surprised. The sword was from a time before they’d been able to forge strong, thin metals. That meant the blade spread large and flat and dull with age, nothing like the snazzy instrument of death Laura had pictured. Her whole life was a disappointment.

Except Carmilla. Carmilla kept living up and up and up to Laura’s expectations.

“Okay, the one thing I haven’t figured out is what the supplement was.” Laura let the sword drop onto her bed, and after staring at the bare blade for a moment, wrapped it in one of the blankets she’d thrown at Carmilla earlier. She never had gotten around to picking up most of them. As her body cooled with a slower heart rate and all that great, undead stuff, she wasn’t nearly as cold at night. “I mean, what nutrients am I missing? I’m dead.”

“Not yet,” Carmilla reminded her. She was grinning like fool, the adrenaline of stealing a book and a sword from her mother still coursing through her system. “A few more weeks until your body stops entirely, I think. I’m not exactly sure. I’m not,” and she grinned wider, softness stealing over her, “a nurse.”

Laura winked, or tried to. “Not even a german one?” 

Carmilla rolled her eyes. With all the grace she could summon, she settled onto Laura’s bed, right beside the sword. Laura couldn’t decide what looked more dangerous. “No, not even a german one,” she confirmed. “But,” and here her eyes flickered away, “I do know what the supplement was. I was surprised you hadn’t figured it out.”

“Listen,” Laura told her, and nudged the sword aside enough that she could sit elbow to elbow with Carmilla. Now that she knew her secret, it wasn’t so odd that she was cool to the touch. “I may be an inspiringly amazing investigative journalist in the making, but I’m not all knowing.” She sighed as dramatically as she could and leaned into Carmilla even more. They were both grinning now. “Sadly.”

“Do you actually want to know, buttercup?” Carmilla’s tone was warning. “It’s good for you, even if you might find it unpleasant.”

“Everything medical is unpleasant, Carm. I had my head cut open while I was poisoned enough to lose consciousness, and I thought that was perfectly fine.” Laura gestured in the general direction of her scar. It had almost entirely lost the scab, shiny white scar tissue poking through. It was creepy. It was _super_ creepy. It shouldn’t have been healing anywhere near this fast. If she was dead, how was her body regenerating cells? “Well, I thought it was fine until I discovered I was turning into a vampire. That crossed a line.”

Carmilla watched Laura carefully for a moment, but ended up shrugging. Their shoulders bumped, and Laura’s heart raced for a moment. Funny how a vampire could do that to her. Was Carmilla aware of the way she made Laura’s heart lose all sense of reason? “Fine. Blood. You drank blood.”

Laura contemplated the other two blankets left on the floor. If she squinted, they were wrinkled enough to look like faces. Very old faces. Very old faces that were laughing at her. “Okay, yeah, I didn’t want to know.” Laura had, and she was glad she had the information, but also: yikes. “Will I need to drink blood? Right now?” Laura’s hand clenched against the sheets on her bed. “Obviously I’m going to need blood later. Do different types of blood taste different?” Laura gulped. She could remember the savoury sweetness of the supplement this morning, and how she’d craved more. “How much blood do I need to drink? Can I drink from people’s wrists instead of necks, because being so close to a face honestly seems _really awkward._ What about blood bags? Are books about vampires accurate? What about-"

“I can teach you.” Carmilla was leaning in again, tilted so her shoulder kept the pressure against Laura’s, but angled so that their foreheads were nearly touching. “I can teach you lots of things.” She paused, her breath rasping suddenly human between her lips. “If you wanted to learn."

Laura wanted to learn what Carmilla tasted like, if her breathing would stutter if Laura kissed her, if she’d smile. But that wasn’t what Carmilla meant. Probably.

“Oh! My phone!” Laura ducked out of Carmilla’s way, barely missing her lips. A tragedy. Or a tragedy averted? It would take more nerve than Laura currently had to figure that out. “I forgot. I think Laf said they would text me about visiting me again sometime. I always check in the mornings, and it’s the morning! Technically!” Laura knelt in front of her bag and started digging. She could feel Carmilla’s eyes burning into her back.

Well, if Carmilla wanted to kiss her, she could say it! Laura liked straightforward communication, even if she was as far from straight as a person could get.

Laura did, actually have new texts from Laf. It was odd, but not entirely out of character. They were known to carry their experiments far into the night without noticing, and then text an invitation for lunch. Laura was also really, really glad she had an excuse for ducking out on Carmilla like that.

“They did text,” she told Carmilla, refusing to turn and catch her gaze. “Gimme a sec."

 

**Laf**

I heard your hospital was under “quarantine”. I had JP hack their servers. Quarantine my ass.

Got all my gear together. Perr is asleep. Heading out! Hope you’re awake when I come in, Hollis, cause I don’t feel like a bunch of bear spray to the face is my ideal night out.

I also hope I don’t come in and find you with Carmilla. Side note: do you ever stop talking about her? Ask her out and be done with it.

Uh, I don’t think armed guards are hospital-usual, frosh. What the hell’s up with your place? 

Ducked them pretty easy. People these days are so easily distracted by minor explosions.

You’ve got a sweet alarm system in the hospital, Hollis. Should be easy to break. Text you when I’m through. Seriously, wake up. We’ve got some things to be talking about.

[new1.mp3]

 

Laf was coming to visit? Today? Laura tapped on the audio message, to little success. Her phone informed her that she still needed to download two thirds of the file. She frowned. “Hey Carm, can you check the window?”

“For?”

“Laf. They said they’d be popping by.” Laura shook her phone, like that would get the mp3 to download faster. What was happening? “Something to tell me, they said. They’ve been researching the hospital and the missing girls, just like I did.”

“Nobody at the window.” Carmilla crouched next to Laura. “What’s that?”

“Audio something.” Laura tapped one last time, and it finally loaded. Sound spilled from her phone’s tiny speaker, scratchy and muted like Laf’s phone had been in their pocket. “I didn’t see anything when they took me, but now I”m in this little room. It’s dark and it smells like limestone and water like a cave.”

Laura’s heart stopped. Really, truly, stopped. She pounded at her breastbone, anxiety building in a knot. Another voice grumbled through her phone, and she nearly missed it as her heart beat once more, reluctant and soft. “That’s the last one we need. Chuck ‘em in the back with the others.” Whoever it was laughed. “Good news, smarty pants. The Dean will see you now.”

Laf’s voice was dry. “Oh, that’s okay. I know she’s busy.”

There was another round of scratches that told of movement, some sort of impact, and then Laf’s shout echoed. There was scrabbling, like someone pulling themselves across gravel, and it ended.

Carmilla whistled, low and impressed. “Did they… record their own kidnapping?”

“Apparently.” Laura stared down at her phone. Her knees ached, pressed to the cold floor. The replay icon was blinking at her. Would she like to hear her best friend kidnapped again? For the small crime of trying to save Laura’s life? “I did this. They took LaFontaine because of me. They know what we’re up to.”

“Alright, just stop all of this before I get queasy.” Carmilla put a hand on her shoulder, and somehow managed to push Laura up and over the bed. "Cupcake, you are ridiculous and headstrong and naive, and this whole Lois Lane Jr gig is doomed, okay? But unless you’re going around kidnapping people for some ancient unspeakable evil, nothing that’s happening right now is your fault.”

Laura knew her lower lip was quivering. She didn’t remember sitting down, but the bed was soft beneath her. Carmilla had moved the sword, maybe to the floor. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Carmilla said quietly. She laughed self-deprecatingly. "Former minion of the evil? Yeah."

“Okay,” Laura whispered. Carmilla had made a commitment to believe in her, and so she made a commitment back. She would trust Carmilla. She deserved at least that. Laura clamped a hand over her good ear, wanting to hear the word in truth, in magic. “Promise?”

Carmilla’s voice almost seemed richer through the magic between them, something as warm as her body no longer was. “I promise, Laura."

Laura nodded, and didn’t remove her hand. Just a moment. She just needed a moment. Someplace and sometime quiet, where she wasn’t ruining everything she touched. But then-

There was a hum that tickled in Laura’s bones, and she jerked straight upright. She recognized this feeling — it had been scaled down earlier, but this was exactly what she’d felt when Carmilla had gotten that _call_ from her mother.

In the dark quiet, something whispered.

Laura’s eyes dragged, her hand fell away. “Carm, I think something’s-” she said, barely. To her own ears, she sounded slurred. The pressure came on, like it had before, a crushing ocean above and beyond her. Claws prickled at her ears, and her scar lit on fire.

“Laura?”

She stood, her feet light underneath her, and walked with fluid gracelessness towards the door. The bubbling blackness in her veins was uncaring of the body it was dragging.

For a second, Laura beat it back, reclaimed use of her mouth enough to get out a gurgling scream- 

The thing under her skin jerked, and she wasn’t Laura anymore.

 

* * *

 

Laura came back to herself with a stumble. Whatever had been pulling her strings had discarded her, casting her aside without a second thought. She nearly lost her footing, her head spinning worse than it had since her surgery.

Memories trickled back slowly in darkness-smudged flashes of her trip down to… wherever she was. She didn’t have all the pieces, but Laura was pretty sure she’d made a substantial trek downwards. To the basement of the hospital? Wherever she was, it was cold. Her thin shirt and yoga pants weren’t exactly insulating. Inanna really could have timed this kidnapping better. Laura was in all-black sneaking clothes, not-

Another piece fit into place, and Laura stumbled again, her back hitting against a solid rock wall, rough and weeping with dew.

Oh god. She’d backed Carmilla into a corner, her mouth spouting awful things that weren’t her own. Laura could still see her there, shoulders collapsed like an ancient ruin, small and a mockery of her former strength. She had been cowering, backed into a corner like Laura was coming after her with a whip.

Laura remembered a precise satisfaction in her ability to reduce Carmilla to rubble. It had been so easy to watch her crumble, for Carmilla be driven back away and sink into herself and away from her silly ambitions

She could remember it so easily. And she didn’t _want_ to. Carmilla didn’t deserve that. Nobody deserved to be trained so thoroughly in self-loathing that nothing but a few, rote words could destroy them.

Laura was going to fix this. This — the situation, how she’d ended up in this dank, smelly cave, and then fix whatever damage her words had done. Even if they weren’t strictly her own words, she felt a responsibility for the fact they’d been said using her voice.

Another thing to add to the list of things she’d ruined.

Someone’s hand landed on Laura’s shoulder, and she nearly Krav Maga’d them, but caught sight of their face just in time. It was Natalie, one of the missing girls Laura had been tracking. After everything, the victory felt hollow. “Are you alright?”

Her voice resonated oddly. Laura shivered, Natalie’s hand falling from her shoulder. She was tempted to try the plugging-the-ear test, but deep down, she knew she didn’t need it. Natalie was like her. Or like Carmilla, more accurately. It had been more than long enough for her to make the full transition. “I mean, no? But I’m also not bleeding. I get the feeling that would be a bad idea in this crowd.”

Natalie huffed, and then didn’t take another breath for a good long moment. Definitely a vampire. “Yeah. Probably not.” She ran a critical eye over Laura. “How recent was your operation?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Not far enough away. You might get out of this alive.”

The implication was clear: Natalie herself wouldn't. Laura finally noticed the rest of the cave, the people clustered against the wall a distance off from her. Natalie was the ambassador, the first one of them to be taken, and the most used to this. Whatever _this_ was. “Thanks?"

Natalie didn't smile, and didn’t make any attempt to appear human with breath or movement. Laura wondered, distantly, how long she’d been in the dark alone. “Stay out of it, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I wouldn’t know what was good for me if it came up and bit me,” Laura muttered, but plastered on a smile and said, more loudly, “Right. I’m excellent at staying out of the way. You won’t even know I’m here!"

Natalie looked unconvinced, but she drifted back to the group. Laura followed, a pace behind. Each small scuff of movement the girls made echoed in her head. Some of them had Carmilla’s grace, the eerie awareness of their movements, and others jerked around like half of their body was too fast for the other.

From the Carmilla had outlined, Laura had the creeping suspicion that she was the only one left in the cave with even a semblance of humanity.

Then Laura smelled it. Blood. Fresh, but aging, the tang of iron and sweetness filling her altered senses. She followed it, half-mindless, but that faded quickly to horror.

Laf lay in a pool of their own blood. They lay like they were dead, other than the half-breaths Laura could see filling their chest. The side of their head looked like it had been put through a meat grinder, blood caked along their neck, along with a dark, thick crust.

_Mother was kind enough to shove a sizeable portion of magic into my corpse. Enough to revive me, as you can see._

What Natalie had said — time. Whoever had kidnapped Laf hadn’t had enough time for Laura’s comparatively slow and gentle conversion. They’d crammed magic into Laf until they were full to bursting, and hoped for the best.

Laura knelt at their side. She didn’t want to touch them, to move them and make it worse. For all that she’d felt prepared for her surgery, she didn’t know a thing about hospitals or how they ran or how they saved people. She could only hope that Lafontaine would exhibit the same supernatural healing that she had. Otherwise, Laura would have a dead friend. Being dead herself was going to be more than enough to explain to her father.

The dead thing inside Laura ached for the blood. With the uncanny rattle of a group of dead girls around her, it was difficult to not reach for the puddle- but Laura still had enough humanity left to mix nausea into the hungry wanting.

“Silence!”

Laura’s head snapped up, her hand still hovering over her unconscious friend. Blood was seeping through the fabric of her yoga pants now, creeping down her shins. It smelled like burnt cherries and a field of wildflowers on a buttery warm spring day and-

It was Laf’s blood. And Laura was _not_ going to drink it.

The voice cracked out again, but this time it was accompanied by pressure. Laura’s other hand slammed down on the floor with the shock of it, blood splashing half up her arm. _Fruit and sickly sweetness and the iron rasp of meat-_ “You are to stand there. You are to be silent. If you cause trouble, you will be the first served up on a silver platter to Death herself."

 _You_ , Laura decided, _suck._

That was when she caught her first look at Inanna. And she was… the Dean. If Laura hadn’t been able to feel the overbearing crush of magic around her, in her, she wouldn’t have thought twice about the woman. 

And Inanna clearly didn’t think twice of their group, either. She turned her back to them, her focus entirely on the other end of the cave. If Laura squinted, the splattered blood feeding her vampiric senses, she could almost make out a door in the flat section of the cave wall opposite to them.

Careful not to make any sudden movements, Laura climbed to her feet, the other girls giving her a wide berth. They too, seemed to be having difficulty refraining from licking the floor of Lafontaine’s blood, but were managing it for now under Inanna’s watchful eye.

“What’s she waiting for?” Laura whispered, and got an elbow to the side. “Sorry."

“Ereshkigal! Queen of Death!” Inanna shouted. Magic snapped at Laura, stinging against her skin. “I invoke you by the names of the Queen of the Earth, She Who Guards the Gates and Knows the Names of All the Dead.” Inanna raised a hand, the picture of middle aged glamazon. Laura’s head throbbed, the supernatural stillness building. The walls of the caves rattled ever so slightly, stone dust shaking loose over everyone. “I command you — stand before me now!”

For a moment, there was nothing. Laura could have drowned in the magic, if she wanted, given up breathing entirely and lost herself. The tension held for a crystalline moment. Energy hung in the air with the dust, waiting. Then-

Smoke spun at the other end of the room. It was thick, dense, a pillar of magic that smelled of bone and rot. Slowly, leisurely, it assembled itself into a human form. Oddly enough, Laura recognized it.

Inanna did too, if the echoing hiss was enough to go by. More dust shook down, coating her like soot. Goddesses, apparently, were above such mortal concerns as ruined clothing.“Matska Belmonde.” Inanna's fingers were claws at her sides. “What do you think you’re doing, _child_? Don’t be a fool. This isn’t a place to play your games."

“Oh, this?” The thing in Mattie’s body laughed, waving an elegant hand. Laura recognized the strangeness of the movement, how ignorant it was of the confines of Mattie’s normally elegant limbs. She looked amused to be mistaken for her skin. “I needed a way to communicate, and she is ever so convenient. A bit of dramatic irony, _sister_ , isn’t it? That I embody one of your creations, as you try to take the things that are rightfully mine?” Her voice dropped, and though Mattie lingered in Ereshkigal’s stance, her voice was a thing of battlefields and corpses begging respite from the sun. “You think you can bargain with what you stole from me?”

“I am bargaining for the thing _you_ stole! He is _mine_!” Inanna’s voice didn’t break; it shattered, magic cracking in its wake. Laura swayed on her feet, her hearing fading in and out. At least two of the other girls dropped to the ground, collapsing in a pile beside Laf. “And you speak of theft with a poached tongue! Matska is mine, sister.” Her voice dropped a half-octave, catching and scraping against Laura’s tortured ear. “You know how well I take to my things being taken.”

Ereshkigal raised Mattie’s hand to stare at it, the rings that adorned the fingers, the painted nails. She lowered the hand, but not her gaze. “I thought a familiar face might stand a better chance of talking you down. The ways of the underworld are not so kind to those who would disturb their order.” Ereshkigal scanned the crowd, her eyes fixing on Laura last, coated in blood and still alive enough to be breathing. “What did you hope to achieve with… _this_?” Her voice held an ocean of scorn. “They will not be enough to buy you back your beloved."

Inanna growled, and this time, the world shook enough that rocks began to fall. Her voice wove with the destruction, ignorant of the damage she created. “You give him to me or I will use these precious stolen souls to take him."

Ereshkigal laughed, mocking and ancient and awful, and Laura heard more bodies hit the ground behind her. She could barely stand herself, only whatever strength lingered in her faltering heart keeping her on her feet in the storm of magical contempt.

Nothing. Laura was nothing. It had protected her earlier, and it kept on her feet now, no matter the power battering at her. Awful, incoherent things whispered secrets in her ear. What was Laura going to do in the face of this? She had no weapons. The sword was with Carmilla, back in Laura’s hospital room, what might as well be a thousand miles away. She had nothing but herself. Nothing but herself and her useless words.

Her words. Her will. Her _self_.

“No!” Laura shouted. Slowly, the world righted itself, Laura standing alone against the two goddesses. They watched her with distant eyes, Inanna’s mouth turned up in a knife-sharp smirk. “I won’t fight for you!” Laura’s fingers curled in a fist, half-glued in place by her friend’s blood. “I will fight off your influence off every _second_ I can until you’re struggling to even make me stop talking.” She let out a laugh of her own. “I will never. Stop. Talk-"

Inanna grabbed at the air, but Laura felt it in her throat. Inanna crushed the air out of her without needing to touch her, because Laura was _ridiculously_ out of her league. And Laura still needed to breathe.

She didn’t want to die. Laura had known it was coming, of course she had. A couple weeks, Carmilla had told her. She’d go to sleep and wake without a heartbeat. Or it would stall out with her breaths without warning, Laura’s humanity giving way to the magical parasite growing deep in her. But she wasn’t ready now. Not like this.

Laura's heart thudded a question about life at her and she grabbed for her throat, leaving a sticky handprint across it like a slash. Inanna’s face contorted in a sneer as she stalked forwards, and Laura was yanked upwards, her head screaming. Her toes brushed the floor, just barely, and for a second the pain brought to mind her first adventure in the hospital, the first time she’d met Carmilla. She’d never got to-

Laura dropped to the floor with a crash that rattled her bones. Inanna, a mere meter away, stood stock still, her hand still outstretched. The pressure in the room drained away, magic ripping at Laura’s hair as it went by.

There was a sword in Inanna’s chest. Thick, broad bladed, and pulsing with a clean blue light. It ate at her, sending out tentative tendrils at first, but gaining confidence as the seconds roared by.

Laura knew who was holding the hilt of the sword before Inanna fell, the blue light devouring her before she hit the floor. Carmilla stood there, the sword at her side, dripping in blackness and shining bright enough that she was enveloped in a corona. She looked wild, set loose and ready to wreck anything that stood in her path. “Ashes, ashes, and you _finally_ fall down."

“Carm?” Laura breathed. If Inanna was gone, her reality-bending influence was gone too, but she could barely believe her eyes. After the things Carmilla had heard, the ways Inanna had torn her to shreds… she’d come here? “Carmilla, you…” Words failed her.

“Well now,” Ereshkigal said. Her tone was flat, somewhere between pleased and irritated. “Little Countess Mircalla Karnstein. I remember you.” A shudder ran through her, and she said, softer, “Carmilla. You know there is a price, darling.”

Carmilla nodded, then turned away from her sister-and-goddess to focus entirely on Laura. Lit in blue, she looked younger, like she’d managed to shed all the awful years Inanna had loaded onto her. “Laura. Are you alright?”

Laura threw her arms around Carmilla, mindless of the blood that covered them both. She didn’t know how she’d covered the distance between them, and she didn’t particularly care. The sword burned a line against her leg, but she ignored it. “Carmilla. You-“ Laura couldn't find the words. “You’re here.”

Carmilla drew back, removing the sword from where it was beginning to grow uncomfortably warm against Laura’s leg. It was still glowing that unearthly blue, though Inanna was but cinders in the wind. She looked unearthly impossible in the strange light, beautiful and bittersweet. “For now, at least, cupcake.”

“For now?” Laura’s heart dropped. Dread sickened her stomach. A price. Carmilla had said there would be a price for the sword. Something so awful she hadn’t even wanted to mention their only chance. “Carmilla, what was the cost for the sword?”

Ereshkigal chuckled, bubbling and rich. The dust motes swayed to it. “To kill a god? That isn’t a cheap thing.”

“Laura.” Carmilla reached for her, gripping her hand tight. Too tight. Laura could see a hint of pain in her face, something that had to be excruciating. “Sorry, cutie. Safe has never been a good look on me.”

The blue glow grew. Laura could see where it was coming from now. The light was devouring Carmilla. A life for a life. A soul for a soul. As she watched, it crept farther up Carmilla’s arm, her muscles tensing and locking. Her face stayed smooth, but her grip on Laura was on the extreme side. “You didn’t have to- You didn’t do this for me?”

Pain slipped across her face, a second and gone. Carmilla released Laura’s hand before she crushed it. “Of course I did it for you.” She smiled again, somehow. “I’m sorry. It could have been so much more.” Her eyes flickered into shadow, the hungry light shining across her shoulder now. She was shaking, slightly. “I would have written you a poem for believing in me."

Before Laura could process that, say something, say _anything_ , the light leapt over her chest and Carmilla dropped, the sword clattering to the floor, the light dropping away like it had never been there.

Laura’s legs dropped out from underneath her. “Carmilla?” Her fingers fumbled for Carmilla’s pulse, but of _course_ it was gone. Laura thought for a hopeless second she felt something, but it was only her own pulse, her fingers tight enough on Carmilla’s that she could feel it. “Carm?” Her voice quavered.

Laura knew what had happened. This wasn’t a game anymore. It wasn’t an investigation, an adventure, an anything that wasn't a tragedy.

Laura folded Carmilla’s still hand in her own. “After this, no nursery rhymes, okay? I think we deserve an epic.” Laura laughed, somehow, and seconds stretched by before she realized she was expecting Carmilla to laugh with her. “I’m thinking _Paradise Lost_ level, got it? You can call it _Paradise Found_ , because we won’t have lost anything.” Laura listened to her own breathing, harsh amongst a cave of the gone. “Can you hear me, Carm? I won’t lose. I won’t let us lose.”

It didn’t feel real. They had been so close. If she’d had one more day, a little more time, she could have planned, she could have done _something_. They didn’t deserve to lose. Carmilla didn’t deserve this, not after everything.

Laura should have learned by now. The world wasn’t fair. Laura couldn’t rearrange time. She couldn’t steal another day. She had the time she had, and had to make the best of it. Laura had the here and now.

And here waited a goddess.

Laura let go of Carmilla’s hand, placing it gently across her chest. It took everything she had, but she managed to stand. Mattie stood against the door outline in the cave, watching. She could have been a statue, but for her watching, intelligent eyes.

Laura marched right up to her. “I have something your death goddess wants."

Mattie raised an eyebrow. Ereshkigal lingered under the surface, watching. Waiting. Death, more than anything, had to have endless patience. Laura could feel it in the beats of her faltering heart, the way it said _someday, someday._ “Oh?”

“Me.” Laura clenched her hands into fists. Maybe they wouldn’t feel so empty if she could just- “My magic. The thing that’s been changing me, these past few weeks. That’s something you don’t have — something that can steal me away from death.” Laura nodded her head in Carmilla’s direction, not trusting herself to look. She couldn’t cry. “Don’t you want that magic?” Laura stepped closer. “Don’t you want that magic out of the world?"

“If I take one, I’ll take it all.” The goddess’s voice was merciless. “What about the others?” Ereshkigal pointed to Laf, the lone body still breathing. The others had been felled by Inanna before they had a chance to come to Laura’s aid. Unconscious, they were still as corpses.  “Other than the bleeding one, the magic is the only thing keeping them thinking and _alive_. Are you so callous as to take their lives for your own purposes?"

Laura shook her head. Her mind spun, the ideas falling into place as she spoke them. “No. For them, other than the would-survive-extraction one, you’d get a different deal. A chance to study the magic in action.” Laura’s hands were shaking at her sides. “When else are you going to get that chance?” She fixed Ereshkigal with a _look_ , as steady as she could manage. “Also, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind working for you. You’ll get a whole bunch of undead spies for the deal! I’m sure they all have places they want to go!"

Ereshkigal looked contemplative in Laura’s direction, her eyes focused on something beyond Laura’s understanding. Laura thought she should be really checking out the goods on the other side of the room, the girls who would be consigned to her care. “And you? Don’t you have places you want to go?”

Laura touched the scar behind her ear, slick and hard where it shouldn’t have been. Darkness ticked in the depths of her hearing, almost too faint to hear. “Nowhere I can’t go when I’m _alive_.” 

Ereshkigal refocused on Laura. Her lips pursed. “You may have an attempt at a bargain, but have you thought through what you want?” Her tone twisted and shifted as she spoke, Mattie speaking with her. “Don’t you think she’s done enough? Maybe she’s earned her rest.”

Laura pointed at Carmilla, lying in a heap on the floor, the sword discarded off to her side. Her lips were parted, like she’d wanted to say more. There was so much unsaid that Laura needed to get out, when Carmilla could hear it. “Look me in the eye and tell me that she’s _resting_.”

“Hmm.” Ereshkigal stepped around Laura, drifting over to regard the shell of Carmilla. She looked peaceful, nearly, but her eyebrows were still pinched with the pain of the soul eating sword that had saved Laura’s life. “You are certain?”

“Yes.” Laura hadn’t been more sure about anything. Whatever magic or abilities she was giving up was a price worth paying. “This is not how her story ends.”

Ereshkigal reached out, first to Laura, and then to Carmilla. Black mist stretched from Laura’s skin, elastic and reluctant. Blood whined in Laura’s ears, and then abruptly, her right ear fell completely silent. She barely noticed. At her feet, Carmilla twitched, and then spasmed. Laura dropped to her knees again, hovering. Waiting.

Carmilla coughed and grabbed at her chest. She tried at one word, then another, the reality of the stone underneath her sinking in fast.  “What have you done?”

Ereshkigal watched Laura with knowing eyes. It almost seemed like she could read Laura’s mind, like her stint in half-death had granted the goddess that right. “I do not have jurisdiction of the undead. You get what I can give.”

Laura looked up Ereshkigal for as long as she could bear to not be looking at Carmilla, struggling upright and coughing like her life depended on it. “Thank you.”

Ereshkigal inclined her head. “A price was paid. Don’t thank me yet, Laura Hollis.” Carmilla fumbled for Laura’s hand, and Laura gripped back, unreasonably happy. Ereshkigal watched them, and this time there wasn’t as much distance in her expression. "We will meet again, as will Mircalla. Everyone comes to Death, in the end.”

“In the end.” Laura held Carmilla’s hand tight. She didn’t think she ever wanted to let go. “Right now, we’re only at the beginning.”

Strangely, Ereshkigal smiled at that. “And what a beginning.” This time when she inclined her head, she bowed slightly as well. “Until we meet again.”

With that, she vanished in a poof of smoke. When Laura blinked it away, it was to find the cave nearly empty. Only Laf remained, passed out cold. They looked happier than they had earlier, the side of their head transformed into a mass of scar tissue that would have rivalled Carmilla’s. The pool of blood had stopped its seeping growth.

That was kinder than Ereshkigal had had to be. Laura appreciated it. Maybe, if she could figure out how, she’d thank the goddess. Did they like smoothies, or were they more down for blood sacrifices? After the vampire scare, Laura didn’t know if she could stand the sight of it again.

“Well,” Carmilla said. Her shoulders rose and fell steadily, something she didn’t seem entirely aware of. Instead, she was focusing on Laura like she was an entire universe, something burning and bright and beautiful. “ _That_ was a kick.”

Laura shifted to her knees, put her hands on Carmilla’s shoulder, and leaned in to kiss her.

It was everything Laura had hoped for. They moved at the same time, crushing the distance between them. Carmilla’s hands were sure and strong, cupping her face, and Laura kissed her like the magic had lingered in the unimportance of breathing. Kissing Carmilla and meaning it was an entirely different beast than any stray thought. Laura didn’t hold back or hesitate, not now. It was one thing to want, another to have, and Carmilla gave and gave, burning lips and hand knotted tight in Laura’s hair.

Laura’s hands didn’t so much wander as run, skimming down Carmilla’s sides and slipping under her shirt to meet the soft skin. Laura’s heart beat a staccato rhythm in her chest, her pulse thrumming against her palms, pressed hard enough to Carmilla’s hips she _had_ to feel it. Heartbeats had to be a foreign sensation to a vampire so long gone.

Laura gasped against Carmilla’s mouth, and they were tipping, Carmilla over her, dark hair covering the scant space between their faces. Laura pulled her back down, every sense overwhelmed, and thought— 

_She’ll have to get used to a heartbeat._


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath, and Laura takes Carmilla home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The NSFW in this chapter isn't particularly explicit. It starts after the scene break, when Carmilla and Laura get up to the apartment. It's implied that this is Laura's first time. There's lots of enthusiastic consent.

Laura's restored heart was thunder in her chest. She hadn't realized how faint it had been getting in the past while, not until it had been restored to its full vigour.

Laura hadn't noticed a lot of things fading away, but everything was back where it should be inside her. She felt right. Tired, from the long drive back to her apartment. Tired, from waiting around for Perry to pick up Laf. A little traumatized. But now it was over, and she was standing outside her apartment building. She'd never been more grateful for her father insisting she live alone. Roommates, he'd said, were akin to the devil itself. After her disastrous first year in residence, Laura couldn't help but agree. Say no to creepy Victorian mansions! 

Roommate or not, Laura wasn't quite alone at the moment. Laf had been dropped off to their apartment with Perry fussing over them, semi-conscious and irritated they hadn't gotten to experience more than a couple seconds of being a vampire convert in progress.

Carmilla had come home with Laura. Mostly because it was Laura driving and she didn't have any more important places to be. But that wasn't the truth of it all. After everything, after the kiss, Laura didn't want to let Carmilla walk away.

Laura stared down at her bags in her trunk, and decided against bringing them in. If she was being honest with herself, she knew she wouldn't be unpacking them for a good week, anyway. She slammed the trunk shut, and in that moment, realized she had no idea where Carmilla was. She'd wandered off as soon as the car stopped, curious about how darkness worked. As a vampire, she'd been able to see things bright as if it had been day. Shadows were fascinating to her, or she'd claimed. Laura wasn't sure if Carmilla just been messing with her.

When she finally caught sight of Carmilla leant against the side of her building like someone had discarded her there, staring at her hands like they were newly made, a storm crashed through her. Laura's heart picked up pace, tugging her mind and running to all sorts of forbidden places. Electricity surged.

But maybe they weren't forbidden. Laura, almost exasperated at herself for the cliche of it, held a hand to her lips. They were warm — not to her hand, but to her mind. Laura burned.

She’d won. _They’d_ won. Against all the odds, as Carmilla liked to remind her. But she was one to talk, with all the heroic vampire bullshit she’d pulled. Charging in with a sword last minute had not been the plan! Not that the plan had _worked_ , but it was the thought that counted.

And sometimes, Laura reminded herself, things didn’t always go according to plan. And sometimes, that was okay.

"Hey," Laura said, uselessly. Sun filtered down through the trees collecting around the driveway, the branches long and drooping, like they were trying to lean down and listen.

Carmilla looked up at her with an expression like smoke — something that made Laura all too aware of the fire burning in her belly. The presence of Carmilla near her home was a physical thing in her hurricane heart. "Hey," Carmilla said back. "Is this your place?"

"Um," Laura said, because her mind was elsewhere. "Yes. All my stuff! My rooms. My bed!" She froze. "Not that I'm expecting you to see my bed." Not the intended message! "Not that I'm saying you couldn't. You know. See it. Be in it?" Bad idea! "Actually, I don't have a bed. I sleep on the floor!” There was a long, judgemental pause. If possible, Laura flushed further. "It's better for my back?"

Carmilla shifted her weight away from the wall she'd been leaning on, which brought her face much closer to Laura. It was a purposeful move. Though the eerie grace granted by her undead strength and control had mostly faded from Carmilla’s movements, she didn’t move without a reason. "Creampuff, are you trying to invite me up?"

A second to make a decision.

Laura's thunder heart made it for her, and she was nodding before she knew it. Carmilla's lips curved into a gentle smile, and she stepped close, her hands settling on Laura's waist. Laura could feel the sharp outline of each finger like it had been traced in gasoline.

"Listen, if that's what you're getting all tongue tied over, that's perfectly understandable." Carmilla sloped a grin at her, but her hands at Laura's waist were soft and serious. "Don't be embarrassed. I know what its like to not know how to talk about this stuff. I grew up in the late 1600s, remember?"

"Right." Laura settled her hands on Carmilla's waist. It almost felt like a dancing position, but the space between them was negligible enough to make stepping around difficult. "Makes sense. Vampire." She frowned, and amended herself. "Ex vampire. Is there a word for that?"

"And _now_ you're fine to talk," Carmilla almost grumbled. Her thumb stroked a tiny circle on Laura's hip, and Laura could practically feel her brain melting out her ears. "How about this: we find somewhere private to have this conversation, and if it ends up being an actual conversation instead of... whatever, no harm done."

"We could think of plenty to talk about," Laura offered. The trees rustled above them, casting mirthful shadows. She didn't want to _talk_. Carmilla's pretty lips smiled, Laura's mirroring. "Okay. Okay. Got it. Shutting up now."

Carmilla laughed softly, then moved her hand to grip at Laura's. She stepped back, twisting them into an imitation of a dance. "I remember waltzing." Her leg nudged at Laura, prompting a step back. Carmilla pressed forwards, into her space, and Laura found that she didn't mind at all. “We drank a lot and danced like fools. Partners were face to face. Chest to chest. All of that… whirling. In 1698, it may as well have been sex." 

She twirled Laura, then let her go. Laura knew she wasn't imagining the flush in Carmilla's newly mortal cheeks. Her own had to be fire hydrant red. "I wouldn't mind if we skipped to the future, if your Victorian sensibilities wouldn't be bothered."

"Not at all."

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was so _stupid_ , but Laura's mind and tongue divorced themselves once they'd reached her apartment. The whole elevator ride up she'd been fine, hashing out meaningless details from things she'd been watching. Even opening the door had been fine, her lock cooperating for once. Her fingers were steady on the doorknob, a marked difference from her fluttering heart. It was way past the point of Laura being able to blame it on magic.

Laura told Carmilla the story about having such trouble with the key that she got mistaken for trying to break in, anyway. It was a good story, okay? But then they'd reached her living room, her keys were on the counter wall between the living room and kitchen, and everything in her that went towards intelligent conversation failed. 

She kinda wanted to go with Carmilla's option of conversation. That would be easier. Way easier.

But Laura _really_ wanted Carmilla. She hadn’t thought it was possible to want this much, so much that she felt like she was combusting with it.

"Laura?"

"Huh?" Laura said eloquently. She might've tried again, but there was something dark growing in Carmilla's eyes that wasn't the whole ex-vampire thing. "Hi?"

"Eyes on me." Carmilla put her hands on Laura’s hips, igniting trails of fire that licked up her spine. And Laura had thought that was all exaggeration or outright lie, but all the overblown fire metaphors in books had been nothing but truth. "I get that you're having uncharacteristic problems expressing yourself, but you're going to have to for a moment now." Carmilla reached up, tucking a lock of Laura's hair behind her ear. Her finger brushed by the scar, the numbness barely a prickle against Laura's focus. "Do you want this?"

"Yes," Laura breathed, and their noses brushed. In the dimness of her apartment, she didn't care if Carmilla could see her eyes sliding closed. There was warm breath against her lips, something so different than what she'd first noticed about the vampire. All the wasted opportunities, and the one she was seizing now that much sweeter. "Yes. Can I kiss you?"

"Start with that, sure," Carmilla said, and maybe something more, but Laura didn't wait. She tilted her head and went for it, kissing Carmilla like she wanted to swallow her. Their teeth clashed, but Laura didn't pause. She readjusted, barely, and before she knew it she was holding on to Carmilla with all she had.

Laura pushed her back, stronger than Carmilla now that their supernatural strength was gone, and Carmilla's back and Laura's curled fingers thudded against the wall. With something to hold them up, Laura could press even closer, every line of Carmilla's body heavy against her own. She could feel all the soft places, the way Carmilla moved when she was gasping for air, the way everything shifted when she reached an arm up to twine a hand in Laura's hair.

Laura let her hands wander and run and touch and scrape, everything she'd always wanted to do. Carmilla's teeth nipped at her lips when Laura dragged a finger up her back, tracing the line of her spine. Laura could hardly tell herself apart from Carmilla, couldn’t tell if all the air had fled from the room or if they’d both managed to be entirely breathless. Everything was lost in the press and the feel and the way they kept moving, writhing, like they could get even closer. Carmilla’s leg slotted between Laura’s, her kisses growing shorter, more insistent. Laura could hear herself panting, and nothing was _enough_ , enough air, enough contact, enough Carmilla.

Just when Laura thought she might drown, Carmilla moved to press Laura's shoulder back. Laura leant back fast, disengaging as much as she could bear. The emotion in Carmilla's eyes was clear now: hunger. "Okay. Hold on a second." Carmilla had to stop after that, catching her breath. Laura's thumb ran a quick line across Carmilla's ribs, the softness near intoxicating. It was the fact that Carmilla was having trouble breathing at all that was getting to her, too.

She was doing this to Carmilla. Laura. Laura, who had discovered she was a lesbian when she was thirteen but never considered _doing_ something about it until Carmilla had waltzed her way into her life. Laura could do this. Laura could reduce Carmilla to wordlessness.

"Not that I'm complaining about this amazing wall you have here or anything, but I'm thinking we probably want something more comfortable." Carmilla's tongue ran a quick track along her lips, though honestly, it was a little belated to be trying seduction. "Bed has the biggest success rate, I've found."

"Right, because you've obviously done lots of research-" Laura started, but Carmilla's hand moved against her side and she sorted her priorities. She pressed forwards into Carmilla, helpless, itching for more and more and more. "Right."

Not a moment to waste. Laura grabbed Carmilla's wrist and dragged her towards the bedroom. Where she definitely wanted to see the other girl, rambling be damned. Ordinarily, she’d have introduced her bedroom and her things to someone like her room was a person all of its own, but right now Laura couldn’t focus on anything but the bright star of Carmilla.

With the bed in sight, Laura went in for another kiss. This one went longer, slower, giving Laura a moment to breathe and to appreciate what was happening. It wasn’t some theoretical, far off event. It was here, now. It was Carmilla’s lips on hers, the strained, breathy sound she was making, the sharp pleasure of her skin on Laura’s hands.

Carmilla's hands hovered at the hem of  Laura's shirt, already rucked up halfway to her waist. Carmilla stopped entirely, waiting. Laura trembled, anticipation aching through her bones.

"Yes."

At her waistband.

"Yes."

At the band of her bra-

"I probably need to get that one it's-" and Laura fumbled, Carmilla grinning at her, for the hooks. "It's a stupid bra."

Laura repeated the process on Carmilla, lips following her questioning fingers, a kiss at every new place revealed. Shirt. Bra. Pants.

It was the glory of the thing — there was no _stop there for decency_ or personal bubbles or any reason at all to stay away from the things they craved. It was only what they wanted. And they wanted each other.

Then Carmilla had hands in Laura's hair again and they were turning and Laura tripped and fell onto her bed, Carmilla following to land on top of her. Laura felt the softness and strangeness all again, the slipperiness of their sweat and the sweet way their legs tangled together.

“Laura-“

Laura covered Carmilla’s mouth with her own, tasting her own name on Carmilla’s tongue.

It was unpredictable and impossibly distracting, Carmilla moving or slowing as she pleased, each touch urgent and deliberate. Laura kissed everything she could reach, her mind blank but for Carmilla. She kissed the hollow of Carmilla's neck, finding a pulse and smiling against it. Laura painted a galaxy across Carmilla's skin, drawing it out with one hand and keeping hold against the movement and enchantment Carmilla was scorching into her with the other.

Laura had figured this wouldn't be much different than being alone — it was the same everything, really. She hadn't anticipated this. Everything was heightened because she _wanted_ this — Carmilla's warm weight over her, the way she kissed, the way every inch of Laura's skin could have rivalled the surface of the sun.

In the end it wound down to kisses on cheeks and shoulders and lips, the two of them laid against tangled sheets. Laura held Carmilla tight against her, drifting off to sleep together as something truly human, hands entwined.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to LMoriarty, the world's best friend and world's best beta. Without you, this would be nothing but typos. 
> 
> Arthkael did some [amazing](http://arthkael.tumblr.com/post/165905416863/a-bonus-sketch-for-vampire-hearing-by) [art](http://arthkael.tumblr.com/post/170454323188/bonus-fanart-for-vampire-hearing-by) for this story, which is the actual coolest thing that has ever happened to me. She did so much research on what things would actually look like for a cochlear implant, which she definitely didn't need to do... but that made all of the art so much better. I really appreciate it! And the detail that matches it to the story is nothing less than incredible. 
> 
> You can find me over at writerproblem193.tumblr.com, where sometimes I talk about Carmilla and sometimes about what being a real life cyborg is like. You're free to translate or podfic this, just tell me so that I can be all excited about it!


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